IRELAND'S 

LITERARY 

RENAISSANCE 

ERNEST  A.BOYD 


IRELAND'S  LITERARY 
RENAISSANCE 


IRELAND'S 
'  LITERARY 
RENAISSANCE 


BY 

ERNEST  A.  BOYD 

AUTHOR  OF 
"THE  CONTEMPORARY  IRISH  DRAMA" 


NEW   YORK 

JOHN   LANE  COMPANY 
MCMXVI 

I  ooo 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY 
JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


' 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Company 
New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

M.  E.  B. 


FOREWORD 

The  purpose  of  this  book  is  to  give  an  account  of  the 
literature  produced  in  Ireland  during  the  last  thirty 
years,  under  the  impulse  of  the  Celtic  Renaissance. 
The  generation  which  succeeded  the  Anglicised  Irish 
writers  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  the  first  conscious 
expression  of  national  feeling  since  the  passing  of 
Gaelic  as  a  literary  medium.  But,  in  spite  of  such 
fine  personalities  as  William  Carleton  and  Thomas 
Davis,  the  early  nineteenth  century  was  associated 
chiefly  with  "the  stage  Irishism"  of  Charles  Lever,  and 
the  fierce  political  nationalism  of  the  patriot  poets  of 
"  The  Nation."  It  was  not  until  the  Eighties  that  nation- 
alism made  way  for  nationality,  and  a  literature  came 
into  existence  which  bore  the  imprint  of  the  latter.  The 
rise  of  the  Language  Movement,  and  the  return  to  Celtic 
sources,  gave  a  colour  and  tradition  to  the  new  litera- 
ture unknown  to  the  older  exponents  of  Anglicisation 
or  nationalism,  and  rendered  it  more  akin  to  the  Gaelic 
than  the  English  genius.  Consequently,  it  was  no 
more  related  to  the  political  than  to  the  Anglicised  liter- 
ature which  had  preceded  it,  for  which  reason  no  refer- 
ence has  been  made  in  this  work  to  the  later  writers  who 
have  followed  either  school.  Such  names  as  Oscar 
Wilde  and  Bernard  Shaw  belong  as  certainly  to  the  his- 
tory of  English  literature  as  Goldsmith  and  Sheridan, 
whereas  the  term  Irish  (or  Anglo-Irish)  can  be  most 
properly  reserved  for  that  literature  which,  although  not 

7 


8  FOREWORD 

written  in  Gaelic,  is  none  the  less  informed  by  the  spirit 
of  the  race. 

Given  this  limitation  of  the  subject,  it  will  be  evident 
that  the  estimates  and  judgments  expressed  in  the 
course  of  this  history  are  relative,  and  must  always  be 
referred  to  the  fundamental  condition  upon  which 
Anglo-Irish  literature  exists.  As  a  rule,  studies  of 
Irish  writers,  whether  articles  or  monographs,  are 
written  from  an  essentially  English  point  of  view.  The 
subject  is  conceived,  in  other  words,  as  part  of  English 
literature,  and  every  effort  is  made  to  challenge  attention 
by  claiming  for  some  Irish  work  a  place  amongst  the 
masterpieces  of  the  English  genius.  Sometimes  these 
claims  are  allowed  to  pass,  but  more  often  they  are  re- 
sented by  susceptible  champions  of  England's  literary 
supremacy.  While  we  may  understand  the  patriotic 
indignation  of  the  latter,  we  cannot  admit  the  theory 
that  every  word  of  praise  bestowed  upon  Irish  poetry  is 
a  tribute  filched  from  Keats  or  Shelley.  It  is  true  that 
certain  critics  demand  recognition  for  the  subject  of 
their  enthusiasm  upon  terms  which  seem  overgenerous 
to  those  most  predisposed  to  sympathy,  and  thereby 
they  render  a  great  disservice  to  the  literature  of  con- 
temporary Ireland.  The  fact  is,  the  same  misconcep- 
tion exists  on  both  sides  of  the  controversy.  Irish  criti- 
cism is  not  interested  in  such  comparisons,  being  pri- 
marily concerned  in  establishing  a  ratio  of  national 
literary  values  for  Irish  literature.  If  comparisons 
between  English  and  Irish  poets  are  called  for,  they 
must  be  made  upon  some  reasonable  basis.  It  will 
not  do  to  dismiss  Yeats  or  A.  E.  by  contrasting  their 
achievement  with  that  of  the  greatest  writers  in  the 
English  language.  To  us,  in  Ireland,  Yeats  may  well 


FOREWORD  9 

be  the  national  counterpart  of  England's  Shelley,  and 
as  such  he  claims  our  attention.  In  comparative  lit- 
erature his  rank  may  be  different.  We  are  satisfied 
that  the  poetry  of  the  Revival  is,  to  say  the  least,  equal 
to  that  written  in  England  during  the  same  period. 
But  needless  to  say  such  speculations,  however  interest- 
ing to  the  English  historian,  have  no  place  in  the  present 
volume.  The  writers  have  been  studied  as  part  of  our 
national  literature,  and  have  been  estimated  accordingly. 
Their  work  has  been  considered  solely  in  so  far  as  it 
reveals  those  artistic  and  racial  qualities  which  consti- 
tute the  raison  d'etre  of  the  Celtic  Renaissance,  and  the 
terms  of  appreciation  are  strictly  relative  to  the  scope  of 
Anglo-Irish  literature. 

With  few  exceptions,  the  subjects  of  the  following 
chapters  have  all  placed  me  under  obligations  by  the 
kind  manner  in  which  they  responded  to  my  inquiries 
concerning  matters  which  absence  from  Ireland  pre- 
vented me  from  verifying  at  first  hand.  For  the  same 
reason,  I  owe  many  thanks  to  my  friend,  Miss  J.  T ay- 
lour,  of  Dublin,  who  so  patiently  elucidated  doubtful 
points  of  bibliographical  interest,  and  to  Mr.  John 
Quinn,  of  New  York,  who  generously  gave  me  access  to 
his  rare  collection  of  Irish  books,  at  a  time  when  no 
other  sources  of  reference  were  at  my  disposal. 

E.  A.  B. 

September,  1916. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     PRECURSORS.      James    Clarence    Mangan.      Sir 

Samuel  Ferguson 15 

II.     SOURCES.     The  Father  of  the  Revival:   Standish 

James  O'Grady 26 

III.  SOURCES.     The    Translators:     George    Sigerson. 

Douglas  Hyde 55 

IV.  THE    TRANSITION.      William    Allingham.      The 

Crystallisation   of  the   New   Spirit:    The 
Irish  Literary  Societies 80 

V.  THE  REVIVAL.  POEMS  AND  BALLADS  OF  YOUNG 
IRELAND.  John  Todhunter,  Katharine  Ty- 
nan, T.  W.  Rolleston,  William  Larminie  .  94 

VI.    WILLIAM  BUTLER  YEATS.    The  Poems     .     .     .     122 
VII.    WILLIAM  BUTLER  YEATS.    The  Plays  ....     145 
WILLIAM  BUTLER  YEATS.    The  Prose  Writings    .     166 

IX.    THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY.     Lionel  Johnson,  Nora 

Hopper,  Ethna  Carbery  and  Others     .      .     188 

X.  THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS.  The  Theosophical  Move- 
ment. George  W.  Russell  (A.  E.).  John 
Eglinton 212 

XI.  THE  POETS  OF  THE  YOUNGER  GENERATION.  NEW 
SONGS,  edited  by  A.  E. :  Seumas  O'Sullivan, 
Padraic  Colum,  James  Stephens,  Joseph 
Campbell,  James  H.  Cousins,  Thomas 
Macdonagh  and  Others 253 

XII.  THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT.  FIRST  PHASE:  The 
Irish  Literary  Theatre:  Edward  Martyn 
and  George  Moore 289 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIII.  THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT.     SECOND  PHASE:  The 

Origins  of  the  Irish  National  Theatre:  W. 
G.  Fay's  Irish  National  Dramatic  Com- 
pany. The  Initiators  of  Folk-Drama:  J. 
M.  Synge  and  Padraic  Colum  ....  309 

XIV.  THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT.     THIRD  PHASE:  Pop- 

ularity and  Its  Results:  "Abbey"  Plays 
and  Playwrights.  The  Ulster  Literary 
Theatre:  Rutherford  Mayne  .  .  .  -344 

XV.  FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE.  The  Weak 
Point  of  the  Revival.  Novelists:  George 
Moore,  Shan  F.  Bullock.  Other  Prose 
Writers:  Lord  Dunsany.  James  Stephens. 
Lady  Gregory.  Conclusion 374 

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  APPENDIX 401 


xn 


IRELAND'S   LITERARY 
RENAISSANCE 


IRELAND'S    LITERARY 
RENAISSANCE 

CHAPTER  I 
PRECURSORS 

JAMES    CLARENCE    MANGAN.      SIR    SAMUEL    FERGUSON 


f"  ""^HE  nineteenth  century  saw  the  definite 
eclipse  of  the  Irish  language,  and,  conse- 
quently, the  beginnings  of  a  genuine  Anglo- 
-*-  Irish  literature.  At  first  England  predom- 
inated, as  in  the  work  of  Thomas  Moore,  whose  songs 
familiarised  the  English  people  with  Irish  conditions, 
and  constituted  him  our  literary  ambassador  in 
England.  These  Irish  melodies,  which  he  clothed 
in  the  music  of  his  country,  are  the  first  flutterings  of 
the  Irish  spirit  in  English  literature.  Moore  was 
followed  by  Jeremiah  Joseph  Callanan,  who  opened 
up  the  path  along  which  Mangan  was  to  follow  and 
to  out-distance  him.  Most  of  Callanan's  work  is 
of  little  value,  being  an  imitation  in  form  and  manner 
of  Byron,  Scott  and  Moore.  Fortunately,  his  knowl- 
edge of  Irish  gave  him  access  to  sources  which  saved 
him  from  the  Anglicisation  that  renders  so  many  of 
his  predecessors  and  contemporaries  negligible. 
The  essentially  Irish  metre  of  the  Outlaw  of  Loch 
Lene,  and  the  passionate  Dirge  of  0' Sullivan  Bear,  are 
fine  illustrations  of  Callanan's  powers  as  translator. 

IS 


16   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

The  best  of  his  original  poems  is  probably  Gogaune 
Barra,  with  its  characteristically  Gaelic  rhymes,  and 
its  proud  consciousness  of  Irish  tradition. 

Three  years  after  Callanan's  death,  in  1842,  Sir 
Charles  Gavan  DufTy  founded  The  Nation,  a  news- 
paper of  great  importance  in  the  evolution  of  Anglo- 
Irish  poetry.  Primarily  the  organ  of  the  Young 
Ireland  Party,  The  Nation  was  born  to  awaken  the 
spirit  of  Irish  nationality.  The  essays  of  Thomas 
Davis  and  others  were  appeals  for  national  unity, 
an  attempt  to  revive  a  sense  of  history,  of  pride  in  the 
traditions  of  Ireland,  in  a  people  ignorant  and  en- 
slaved, and  lost  to  all  consciousness  of  the  past 
achievement  of  their  race.  This  propaganda  of 
nationalism  was  greatly  strengthened  by  Gavan 
Duffy's  proposal  to  enlist  the  aid  of  the  poets. 
Davis's  Lament  for  the  Death  of  Owen  Roe  O'Neill, 
probably  his  finest  verse,  was  the  first  of  the  series 
of  national  songs  and  ballads  which  afterwards 
became  famous  as  The  Spirit  of  the  Nation.  A 
volume  of  poetry  was  poured  into  this  channel  from 
all  quarters,  obscure  peasant  girls,  men  well-known 
in  the  struggle  for  political  freedom,  succeeded  one 
another  in  the  pages  of  The  Nation.  All  were  in- 
spired by  a  like  fervour  of  patriotism,  while  the 
sincerity  of  their  emotion,  and  the  vigour  of  its 
expression,  earned  for  them  the  appreciation  of  such 
unlikely  admirers  as  Lord  Jeffrey  and  Macaulay. 
There  can  be  little  doubt  of  the  influence  of  these 
poets  upon  their  contemporaries.  The  idea  of  Irish 
nationality  had  become  revitalised,  and  became  a 
living  thing  to  many  distinguished  Irishmen  of  the 
period,  whose  training  and  circumstances  would 
ordinarily  have  directed  their  minds  in  another 
direction.  Of  these  Sir  Samuel  Ferguson  may  be 
mentioned,  as  he  was  later  to  appear  as  the  most 


PRECURSORS  17 

remarkable  poet  of  this  century,  and  to  share  with 
Mangan  the  claim  to  be  the  immediate  forerunner  of 
the  Literary  Revival. 

The  poets  of  The  Nation,  for  all  their  intensity  of 
patriotic  feeling,  followed  the  English  rather  than 
the  Celtic  tradition,  their  work  has  a  political  rather 
than  a  literary  value,  and  bears  little  upon  the  de- 
velopment of  modern  Irish  verse.  The  literature 
of  the  Revival  is  no  longer  concerned  with  the 
political  revolt  against  England.  It  has  lost  the 
passionate  cry  of  aggressive  patriotism,  the  wail  of 
despair,  and  has  entered  into  possession  of  the  vast 
field  of  Irish  legend.  Here,  in  the  interpretation  of 
the  Celtic  spirit,  it  has  found  a  truer  and  more  stead- 
fast expression  of  Irish  nationality.  The  circum- 
stances propitious  to  such  outbursts  as  characterised 
the  patriot  poets  of  the  mid-nineteenth  century  have 
altered.  Patriotic  revolt  is  not  a  sufficient  guar- 
antee of  good  poetry,  and  the  Irish  Muse  has  found 
a  quieter  and  more  lasting  inspiration.  With  the 
exception  of  Mangan,  none  of  The  Nation  poets  have 
left  work  whose  appeal  is  likely  to  endure.  Mangan 
was  something  more  than  a  patriot,  he  was  a  poet 
of  genius,  and  his  work  has  a  value  transcending  that 
of  the  writers  with  whom  he  was  accidentally  asso- 
ciated. In  him  one  can  detect  the  presence  of  influ- 
ences which  were  absent  from  the  work  of  his  con- 
temporaries, and  which  make  him  the  true  father  of 
the  modern  poets.  Contact  with  the  pure  stream 
of  Irish  culture,  Gaelic  literature,  so  moulded  the 
mind  of  the  poet  as  to  constitute  his  work  the  first 
utterance  of  Celtic  Ireland  in  the  English  tongue. 
Patriot  though  he  was,  like  Davis,  McGee  and  the 
others,  he  required  the  stimulus  of  some  ancient 
Gaelic  song  or  legend  to  bring  out  the  great  power 
that  was  in  him.  Even  the  essentially  patriotic  and 


i8    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

familiar  Dark  Rosaleen  owes  its  existence  to  Mangan's 
reading  of  Roisin  Dubh,  the  work  of  an  obscure 
Elizabethan  bard.  It  was  not,  moreover,  until  he 
had  produced  two  less  felicitous  versions  that  he 
attained  the  perfection  of  form  in  which  it  is  now 
best  known. 

The  existence  of  these  three  versions,  written  at 
considerable  intervals,  indicates  to  what  extent 
Mangan's  imagination  was  haunted  by  this  song. 
As  he  brooded  over  its  passionate  theme,  becoming 
more  deeply  stirred  by  its  beauty,  his  soul  vibrated 
to  the  music  of  the  Gaelic  minstrel,  until,  carried 
away  by  his  awakened  inspiration,  he  gave  his  noble 
and  almost  perfect  rendering.  A  comparison  of 
these  versions,  verse  by  verse,  reveals  everywhere 
the  same  differences;  the  contrast  between  transla- 
tion and  inspiration  is  in  every  line.  As  the  poem 
departs  more  and  more  from  the  text,  it  comes 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  conception  of  the  Gaelic 
poet,  and  becomes  at  the  same  time  an  original 
creation.  In  exchange  for  verbal  fidelity  Mangan 
offers  such  personal  contribution  as  "your  holy  deli- 
cate white  hands,"  nowhere  to  be  discovered  in  the 
text.  In  short  he  treats  his  subject  as  the  moderns 
have  treated  theirs.  The  latter,  absorbing  the  leg- 
ends and  stories  of  their  country,  have  identified 
themselves  with  the  spirit  of  Ireland's  past,  and 
renewed  the  tradition  of  Irish  literature.  Mangan, 
however,  was  not  always  so  happily  inspired  by 
Gaelic  themes,  and  in  many  instances  his  successor, 
Samuel  Ferguson,  has  surpassed  him,  without  possess- 
ing more  than  a  tithe  of  his  poetic  genius.  Fergu- 
son's profound  knowledge  of  Irish  often  enables  him 
to  succeed,  in  a  measure,  where  Mangan  has  failed. 
Owing  to  the  absence  of  inspiration  to  compensate 
for  the  lack  of  scholarship,  Mangan's  The  Fair  Hills 


PRECURSORS  19 

of  Ireland  is  inferior  to  Ferguson's  The  Fair  Hills  of 
Eire,  0.  Mangan  has  notes  which  Ferguson  could 
never  hope  to  reach,  but  his  fire  is  spasmodic,  and 
flickers  in  a  manner  utterly  incompatible  with  the 
steady,  if  somewhat  dead,  level  of  Ferguson's  work. 
His  finest  achievement  is  Dark  Rosaleen.  Noisy 
and  sincere  patriotism  were  then,  and  have  since 
been,  the  frequent  inspiration  of  Irish  poetry, 
but  that  wonderful  paraphrase  has  a  beauty 
and  a  poignant  intensity  which  have  never  been 
equalled. 

The  squalid  shiftlessness  of  Mangan's  own  life 
made  him  the  responsive  interpreter  of  Ireland's 
sorrowful  history  of  former  splendour  contrasted 
with  an  ever-present  misery.  Here  he  could  lose 
himself  in  the  hopes,  laments  and  memories  of  the 
Gael,  and  satisfy  the  vague  longings  of  his  idealism. 
Weak  and  purposeless  himself,  he  had  not  that  joy 
of  living  which  alone  can  create  eternal  beauty.  It 
was  only  when  he  caught  the  fervour  of  some  old 
Irish  poet  that  he  became  truly  inspired.  Even 
then,  he  could  not  say  yea  to  life.  As  in  his  original 
work,  so  in  his  poems  of  Gaelic  origin,  his  themes  are 
of  sorrow,  despair  and  death.  His  verse  is  filled 
with  tears,  and  seems,  as  it  were,  the  caoine  of  an 
entire  race.  Apart  from  Gaelic  sources  Mangan 
is  as  commonplace  as  Moore.  His  work  is  often 
shallow  and  arid,  filled  with  rhetoric  which  not  even 
his  unusual  command  of  rhyme  and  rhythm,  his 
skilful  versification,  can  conceal.  He  was  devoid 
of  the  self-control  which  enables  the  great  artist  to 
select  and  fashion  his  material  at  will.  His  genuine 
culture  and  love  of  literature  constituted  him  a 
somewhat  unique  figure  in  his  time.  In  him  the 
authentic  voice  of  Celtic  Ireland  was  heard  for  the 
first  time  in  Anglo-Irish  poetry,  and  he  indicated 


20   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

the  way  of  escape  from  the  dominance  of  England, 
which  his  successors  have  followed. 

Unlike  Mangan,  Ferguson  was  a  distinguished 
Gaelic  scholar.  His  studies  in  archaeological  re- 
search gave  him  direct  access  to  the  treasures  of  Ire- 
land's ancient  history  and  literature,  which  were 
only  imperfectly  revealed  to  Mangan  in  the  literal 
translations  from  the  Gaelic,  furnished  by  his  learned 
friends  O'Daly  and  O'Curry.  With  the  intuition  of 
genius,  Mangan  was  able  to  sense  the  spirit  that  lay 
behind  these  transcriptions.  Ferguson  infused  his 
verse  with  that  spirit  as  the  reward  of  years  of  an- 
tiquarian labours.  His  work  was  not  confined  to 
literature,  but  covered  the  whole  field  of  Irish  culture, 
history,  architecture,  law,  music  and  antiquities. 
The  public  recognition  of  his  services  to  Irish  scholar- 
ship was  his  appointment  as  Deputy  Keeper  of  the 
Records,  and  subsequently  his  election  as  President 
of  the  Royal  Irish  Academy.  He  set  himself  to  lay 
the  foundations  of  a  national  literature  worthy  of 
Ireland,  realising  that  something  more  substantial 
than  the  aggressive  patriotism  of  The  Nation  must 
provide  the  subject  matter  of  Irish  art. 

While  a  young  man  Ferguson  attracted  attention 
as  a  poet  in  the  pages  of  Blackwood's  Magazine,  and 
between  the  ages  of  twenty  and  thirty  he  contributed 
to  the  Dublin  University  Review  the  series  of  historic 
tales  afterwards  published  as  The  Hibernian  Nights' 
Entertainments.  These  were  his  first  attempts  to 
put  the  old  legends  and  stories  into  circulation.  In 
1867  he  published  his  first  volume  of  verse,  Lays  of 
the  Western  Gael,  which  was  followed  in  1872  by  the 
more  ambitious  epic,  Congal.  A  volume  of  collected 
Poems  appeared  in  1880,  and  attached  directly  to 
the  first  book  of  Lays,  by  its  treatment  of  further 
incidents  in  the  Red  Branch  legendary  cycle.  These 


PRECURSORS  21 

two  works  gave  a  strong  impulse  to  the  return  to 
Irish  legend  which  is  so  distinctive  a  feature  of  the 
Revival.  This  rendering  in  English  verse  of  the 
Conorian  cycle  of  the  Red  Branch  history  is  the 
foundation  of  a  new  literature.  Here,  for  the  first 
time  in  Anglo-Irish  poetry,  is  outlined  the  tragic 
history  of  the  House  of  Usnach,  of  the  loves  of  Naisi 
and  Deirdre,  the  Helen  and  Paris  of  Ireland's  an- 
tiquity, and  the  mighty  deeds  of  Cuchulain,  who 
dominates  Irish  bardic  history,  as  Achilles  dominated 
the  Greek  epic. 

The  older, — Conorian, — legend  has  always  found 
more  favour  than  the  later  Ossianic.  The  love  story  of 
Deirdre,  for  example,  has  never  ceased,  since  Fer- 
guson, to  engage  the  attention  of  the  poets.  As 
early  as  1876  the  Deirdre  of  R.  D.  Joyce  awakened 
popular  response,  and  since  1880,  the  date  of  Fer- 
guson's version,  the  subject  has  been  treated  by 
Douglas  Hyde,  John  Todhunter,  T.  W.  Rolleston, 
A.E.,  J.  M.  Synge,  W.  B.  Yeats,  and  others  of  lesser 
importance.  On  the  other  hand,  the  corresponding 
tale  of  Diarmuid  and  Grania  from  the  later  legend 
has  attracted  comparatively  few,  none  of  whom  has 
been  quite  successful.  Ferguson,  in  his  Lays,  has 
treated  the  pathetic  incident  of  the  death  of  Diarmuid 
and  his  last  meeting  with  Finn.  Katharine  Tynan, 
in  her  second  volume  of  verse,  Shamrocks,  gave  a 
sympathetic  rendering  of  the  story,  but  it  still  awaits 
a  worthy  interpretation.  The  dramatists  have  simi- 
larly failed  in  their  treatment.  Neither  the  Diar- 
muid and  Grania  due  to  the  strange  collaboration  of 
George  Moore  and  W.  B.  Yeats,  nor  the  recent 
Grania  of  Lady  Gregory,  can  be  compared  with  the 
dramas  which  have  had  Deirdre  for  their  subject. 
The  latter,  it  is  true,  offers  material  of  a  naturally 
more  dramatic  quality.  The  story  falls  of  its  own 


22    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

accord  into  the  five  acts  of  classical  tragedy,  and, 
involving  as  it  does  the  destiny  of  the  entire  House  of 
Usnach,  it  is  not  surprising  that  it  should  transcend 
the  more  circumscribed  interest  of  the  Diarmuid 
and  Grania  episode.  The  Fate  of  the  Sons  of  Usnach 
seems  from  the  earliest  times  to  have  been  sung  by 
the  bards,  for  whom  the  tragedy  had  the  same  fas- 
cination it  has  exercised  upon  the  modern  poets. 
Indeed,  as  Dr.  Sigerson  has  pointed  out,  there  is 
reason  to  suppose  that  Deirdre  was  the  first  tragedy, 
outside  of  the  classic  languages,  in  the  literature  of 
Europe. 

It  was  natural  that  Ferguson,  with  his  ambition  to 
found  a  national  literature,  should  think  of  writing 
an  Irish  epic.  In  Lays  of  the  Western  Gael  he  had 
already  adapted  to  English  verse  portions  of  the 
great  Gaelic  epic,  the  Tain-Bo-Cuaigne,  but  these 
episodes  were  never  welded  together,  and  made  no 
pretence  of  fufilling  the  need  of  Anglo-Irish  literature 
for  a  work  of  epical  dimensions.  For  this  purpose 
something  more  was  demanded  of  the  poet  than 
that  he  should  be  a  translator  or  adapter.  It  was 
necessary  to  take  the  material  supplied  by  the  trans- 
scripts  of  the  ancient  tales  of  the  bards,  to  divest  it 
of  many  of  the  extravagancies  which  conceal  the  true 
grandeur  and  poetry  of  the  bardic  songs,  and  to 
remould  it  into  one  of  those  beautiful,  homogeneous 
narratives  with  which  we  identify  the  great  epic 
poems  of  literature.  In  the  bardic  romance  known 
as  The  Battle  of  Moyra,  Ferguson  believed  he  had 
found  a  subject  susceptible  of  such  treatment,  and 
for  some  years  he  strove  to  embody  it  in  a  poem  of 
epic  quality.  The  result  of  his  labours  was  the  pub- 
lication in  1872  of  Congal.  This,  however,  was  but 
the  partial  fulfilment  of  his  original  purpose.  As  he 
confessed  in  his  preface,  the  "inherent  repugnancies" 


PRECURSORS  23 

of  the  subject  proved  "too  obstinate  for  reconcile- 
ment." Instead  of  following  the  plan  of  the  original 
story,  he  was  obliged  to  recast  the  material,  and_to 
concentrate  his  attention  upon  Congal,  the  principal 
personage  in  the  Gaelic  text,  while  retaining  the 
Battle  of  Moyra  as  the  culminating  incident. 

The  theme  seems,  indeed,  peculiarly  adapted  to 
epic  treatment,  possessing,  as  it  does,  breadth  of  sig- 
nificance and  unity  and  continuity  of  action.  The 
struggle  between  the  forces  of  Congal  and  Domnal 
transcend  the  interest  of  simple  warfare,  and  the 
battle  at  Moyra  marks  the  last  stand  of  bardic  and 
pagan  Ireland  against  the  forces  of  Christianity  and 
clericalism.  In  spite  of  having  abandoned  his  first 
project,  Ferguson  succeeded  in  imparting  to  Congal 
some  of  the  qualities  which  his  original  conception 
would  naturally  have  possessed.  He  peoples  his 
narrative  of  the  expedition  of  Prince  Congal  against 
Domnal,  king  of  Erin,  with  the  terrible,  gigantic 
figures  of  Celtic  mythology.  Mananan  mac  Lir, 
the  great  sea-god  of  Irish  antiquity,  strides  through 
these  pages  with  giant  steps,  while  the  ghastly 
Washer  of  the  Ford,  most  horrible  of  banshees,  is 
evoked  with  the  vividness  of  reality. 

Ferguson's  work  is  valuable  as  representing  a  defi- 
nite stage  in  the  development  of  Anglo-Irish  litera- 
ture. It  must  be  judged  by  its  relative  rather  than 
by  its  absolute  merits.  As  we  have  seen,  he  was 
more  than  a  poet,  he  was  an  antiquarian  whose  man- 
ifold activities,  though  all  directed  towards  the 
reconstruction  of  the  Gaelic  past,  could  not  but  in- 
terfere with  his  efforts  in  the  field  of  pure  literature. 
He  did  not  bring  to  poetry  that  concentration  of 
purpose  and  jealous  care  for  perfection  of  finish, 
which  are  necessary  to  the  creation  of  great  verse. 
The  most  effective  passages  in  Congal  are  marred  by 


24   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

metrical  weaknesses,  the  clashing  of  consonants  and 
awkward  caesurae,  all  indicating  a  certain  roughness 
of  composition  also  visible  in  the  shorter  poems. 
Frequently,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  vigour 
and  freshness  which  enable  Ferguson  to  achieve  his 
effects,  in  spite  of  poor  craftmanship.  It  is  neces- 
sary to  remember  the  difficulties  with  which  he  had 
to  contend. 

We  are  now  so  familiar  with  the  material  that  we 
forget  how  strange  it  was  in  Ferguson's  time.  To 
the  natural  difficulties  of  all  pioneer  work  must  be 
added  the  problem  of  finding  euphonious  equiva- 
lents for  the  old  Gaelic  names  and  of  grappling  in 
English  with  the  redundant  fluency  of  the  old  lan- 
guage. In  his  notes  to  Congal  Ferguson  refers  to 
these  "word-cataracts,"  where  such  orgies  of  descrip- 
tive epithet  abound  as  the  following: 

The  deep-clear-watered,  foamy  crested,  terribly-resounding, 
Lofty  leaping,  prone-descending,  ocean-calf-abounding, 
Fishy  fruitful,  salmon-teeming,  many-coloured,  sunny  beaming, 
Heady-eddied,  horrid  thund'ring,  ocean-prodigy-engend'ring, 
Billow-raging,  battle  waging,  merman-haunted,  poet-vaunted, 
Royal,  patrimonial,  old  torrent  of  Eas-Roe. 

That  he  should  have  risen  so  successfully  to  the 
exigencies  of  his  task  must  weigh  with  us  in  esti- 
mating the  defects  and  qualities  of  Ferguson's  verse. 
If  we  miss  the  more  delicate  verbal  effects  to  which 
many  of  his  successors  have  attained,  we  find  in  him 
a  grasp  of  subject,  a  simple  grandeur,  with  frequent 
passages  of  genuine  inspiration,  which  compensate 
the  absence  of  a  more  perfect  technique.  At  times, 
especially  in  his  longer  works,  we  are  more  sensible 
of  the  hand  of  the  scholar  than  of  the  poet.  It  was 
fortunate  that,  sometimes,  at  least,  scholarship  and 
poetry  were  combined.  The  disappearance  of  Gaelic 


PRECURSORS  25 

from  the  mainstream  of  Irish  life  was  so  complete 
that  it  seemed  condemned  to  exist  obscurely  in  the 
libraries  of  the  learned  societies.  Once  having  lapsed 
into  the  domain  of  scholarship,  the  annals  and 
achievement  of  Gaelic  Ireland  could  only  be  restored 
through  the  intervention  of  a  scholar,  but  a  scholar 
who  would  reach  the  ear  of  the  unlearned. 

The  work  of  restoration  demanded  the  co-opera- 
tion of  learning  and  imagination,  and  in  Ferguson  a 
man  was  found  who  combined  the  necessary  quali- 
fications. He  was  able  to  see  the  past  with  the  eyes 
of  a  scholar  and  to  interpret  it  with  the  mind  of  a 
poet.  It  was  thus  his  privilege  to  possess  the  key 
that  unlocked  the  gates  through  which  the  stream  of 
modern  Irish  literature  was  to  pass.  He  set  free  the 
Celtic  spirit,  imprisoned  in  the  shell  of  an  almost 
extinct  language,  and  obscured  by  the  dust  of  political 
turmoil.  It  is  significant  that  Ferguson  obtained 
immediate  recognition  from  Aubrey  de  Vere,  Wil- 
liam Allingham,  and  such  of  his  contemporaries  as 
were  to  prepare  the  way  of  the  new  poetic  revival. 
The  year  of  his  death,  1886,  saw  the  publication  of 
Mosada,  the  first  book  of  W.  B.  Yeats,  who  has  since 
been  so  completely  identified  with  the  Celtic  spirit 
in  Irish  literature.  As  indicating  the  relation  of 
Ferguson  to  the  young  generation,  and,  consequently, 
his  influence  upon  the  Literary  Revival,  Yeats's 
criticism  of  that  date  may  be  quoted:  "The  author 
of  these  poems  is  the  greatest  poet  Ireland  has  pro- 
duced, because  the  most  central  and  the  most  Celtic. 
Whatever  the  future  may  bring  forth  in  the  way  of  a 
truly  great  and  national  literature  .  .  .  will  find  its 
morning  in  these  three  volumes  of  one  who  was  made 
by  the  purifying  flame  of  national  sentiment,  the  one 
man  of  his  time  who  wrote  heroic  poetry." 


CHAPTER  II 
SOURCES 

THE   FATHER   OF   THE    REVIVAL:    STANDISH   JAMES 

O'GRADY 


MANGAN  and  Ferguson  may  be  rightly 
regarded  as  the  precursors  of  the  Lit- 
erary Revival,  for  their  work  contains 
more  in  common  with  that  of  their 
successors  than  with  that  of  the  poets  who  preceded 
them,  under  the  leadership  of  Thomas  Davis. 
Patriotic  as  was  The  Nation  group,  it  cannot  in  the 
proper  sense  of  the  word  be  described  as  national. 
Davis  and  his  followers  expressed  too  narrow  a  phase 
of  Irish  life  to  merit  so  comprehensive  a  term. 
Mangan  and  Ferguson,  on  the  other  hand,  were  the 
interpreters  of  a  wider  and  purer  nationalism,  exist- 
ing independent  of  political  sentiment.  They  lifted 
national  poetry  out  of  the  noisy  clamour  of  politics, 
and  thereby  effected  that  dissociation  of  ideas  which 
was  most  essential  to  the  existence  of  national  lit- 
erature, and  which  remains  the  characteristic  of  all 
the  best  work  of  the  modern  Irish  poets.  The  substi- 
tution of  a  sense  of  nationality  for  aggressive  nation- 
alism is  the  factor  in  the  poetry  of  Mangan  and 
Ferguson  which  distinguishes  them  from  all  their 
predecessors,  and  brings  them  nearer  to  our  own  time 
than  to  theirs. 

While  thus  introducing  a  new  element  into  Irish 

26 


SOURCES  27 

literature,  they  lacked,  nevertheless,  the  qualifica- 
tion which  we  shall  find  in  those  who  were  the  true 
initiators  of  the  Revival.  Something  more  powerful 
than  intermittent  flashes  of  Mangan's  wayward 
genius,  something  more  ardent  than  the  conscious 
scholarship  of  Ferguson,  was  needed  to  produce  the 
extraordinary  awakening  known  as  the  Irish  Literary 
Revival.  The  occasion  demanded  a  writer  who, 
combining  the  imaginative  intensity  of  the  former, 
with  the  scholarly  attainments  of  the  latter,  would 
illumine  the  entire  field  of  Ireland's  antiquity  with 
the  vivifying  flame  of  romance  and  poetry.  It  so 
happened  that,  about  the  year  1872,  a  young  student 
of  Dublin  University  was  obliged  to  spend  a  wet  day 
indoors  at  a  country  house  where  he  was  visiting. 
While  exploring  the  bookshelves  he  came  upon  the 
three  volumes  of  O'Halloran's  History  of  Ireland, 
where  he  made  the  discovery  that  his  country  had  a 
great  past — an  interesting,  but  awkward  fact,  which 
had  been  well  hidden  from  him,  in  accordance  with 
the  current  precepts  of  Irish  Protestant  education. 
His  interest  and  excitement  kindled,  this  youth  re- 
turned to  Dublin  and  plunged  into  the  records  of  his 
newly  discovered  country,  preserved  in  the  Royal 
Irish  Academy.  A  few  years  later  he  introduced 
himself  to  the  public  as  Standish  O'Grady,  a  name 
which  has  ever  since  been  familiar  by  its  constant 
association  with  every  form  of  literary,  political  and 
economic  activity,  that  called  for  noble  enthusiasm 
and  lofty  idealism.  To  this  accidental  contact  with 
O'Halloran  we  owe  a  most  remarkable  renascence  of 
Irish  literature.  The  publication  in  1878  of 
O'Grady' s  History  of  Ireland:  Heroic  Period,  marked 
the  advent  of  a  new  spirit,,  and  this  work,  with  its 
concluding  volume  in  1880,  must  be  regarded  as  the 
starting-point  of  the  Literary  Revival. 


28    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

That  a  great  stream  of  poetry  should  have  its 
fountain-head  in  a  work  of  prose,  and  a  prose  history, 
moreover,  may  be  sufficiently  unusual  to  explain  the 
prevailing  ignorance  of  the  authentic  origin  of  the 
poetic  renascence  in  Ireland.  It  is  a  commonplace 
of  literary  evolution  that  prose  should  issue  from 
poetry,  and  that  the  latter  should  be  concerned  in  its 
beginnings  with  historical  themes.  The  reversal  of 
the  process  in  the  present  instance  was  all  the  more 
calculated  to  escape  the  notice  of  criticism,  inasmuch 
as  the  existence  of  the  preceding  generations  of  Irish 
poets  indicated  them  as  the  obvious  source  from 
which  to  trace  their  successors.  To  do  so,  however, 
is  to  assume  that  the  Literary  Revival  is  merely  a 
continuation  of  the  Anglicised  Irish  literature  of  the 
eighteenth  and  early  nineteenth  centuries,  whereas 
it  is,  in  reality,  the  creation  of  a  national  literature 
in  the  English  language.  But  the  growth  of  this 
literature  has  necessarily  been  a  departure  from  the 
normal  process  of  evolution.  Ireland  already  pos- 
sessed the  literary  forms  perfected  and  handed  down 
both  by  English  and  Gaelic  writers,  so  that  it  was  not 
a  question  of  evolving  the  framework  of  literature, 
but  of  renewing  the  substance  which  was  to  be 
poured  into  the  existing  moulds.  In  the  circum- 
stances, therefore,  we  need  no  longer  be  surprised 
that  two  volumes  of  historical  prose  should  prove  the 
starting  point  of  a  rich  vein  of  poetry.  It  was  not  the 
form  but  the  matter  and  spirit  of  literature  that  were 
changed,  in  order  that  Ireland  might  be  adequately 
expressed  in  the  language  which  had  supplanted  her 
own  tongue.  We  have  seen  that  neither  Mangan 
nor  Ferguson  was  sufficiently  equipped  for  such  a 
task,  still  less  their  predecessors.  What  the  older 
poets  were  unable  to  achieve  in  verse  was  accom- 
plished by  the  prose  of  Standish  O'Grady.  This 


SOURCES  29 

poet,  disguised  in  the  mantle  of  an  historian,  in- 
fused the  new  spirit  which  was  to  revitalise  Irish 
literature. 

Nothing  further  from  the  ordinary  conception  of 
historical  writing  can  be  imagined  than  these  two 
volumes  relating  the  history  of  Ireland's  heroic  age. 
That  they  should  differ  from  the  manner  of  Keatinge, 
O' Curry,  and  other  orthodox  historians,  was  neces- 
sary and  inevitable,  if  we  view  them  in  the  light  of 
their  ultimate  destiny,  for  how  otherwise  could  a 
young  and  comparatively  unknown  barrister  achieve 
such  extraordinary  results  in  a  field  already  laboured 
by  recognised  authorities?  But  it  did  not  require 
the  confirmation  of  subsequent  events  to  emphasise 
the  fact  that  with  Standish  O'Grady  a  new  method 
of  treating  Irish  history  was  inaugurated.  In  his 
Preface  the  author  himself  clearly  indicated  his  own 
attitude  towards  history,  and  the  faults  of  his  prede- 
cessors which  he  proposed  to  remedy.  Nowhere 
more  than  in  Ireland  had  the  historian  of  antiquity 
been  content  to  accumulate  names  and  dates,  and 
to  tabulate  events,  solely  with  a  view  to  presenting 
as  exhaustive  a  mass  of  antiquarian  research  as 
possible.  The  ignorance  of  Irish  laws,  customs  and 
traditions,  resulting  from  the  desuetude  into  which 
the  language  had  fallen,  explains  to  some  extent  the 
character  of  Irish  history.  So  many  facts  had 
become  obscured,  so  much  literature  was  threatened 
with  oblivion  by  the  spread  of  Anglicisation,  that  the 
work  of  translation  and  excavation  seemed  at  once 
the  most  imperative  and  the  most  important.  But, 
as  Standish  O'Grady  pointed  out,  a  generation  of 
workers  had  laboured  patiently  at  this  task,  the 
bardic  writings  had  been  largely  translated,  the 
remains  of  ancient  Ireland  had  been  investigated, 
and  a  large  quantity  of  material  now  lay  within  easy 


30    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

reach  of  the  true  historian.  At  the  same  time,  a 
precedent  had  unfortunately  been  created,  with  the 
result,  as  he  says,  that  "the  province  of  archaeology 
has  so  extended  its  frontiers  as  to  have  swallowed 
up  the  dominion  of  pure  history  altogether."  The 
antiquarians  have  unearthed  "mounds  of  ore,"  to 
be  smelted  and  converted  into  current  coin  of  the 
realm,  but  they  stand  "in  their  gaunt  uselessness," 
awaiting  literary  exploitation. 

It  was  O'Grady  who  came  with  the  fire  of  imagina- 
tion which  transmuted  this  ore  into  gold.  Leaving 
aside  all  the  preoccupations  of  archaeology,  the  in- 
quiries and  investigations,  the  balancing  of  state- 
ments and  probabilities,  he  undertakes  "the  recon- 
struction by  imaginative  processes  of  the  life  led 
by  our  ancestors  in  this  country."  Taking  the 
material  furnished  by  the  antiquarians,  he  remoulds 
and  absorbs  it,  reducing  to  its  artistic  elements  the 
entire  history  of  the  heroic  period  as  revealed  in 
bardic  literature.  To  Standish  O'Grady  these  great 
figures  of  an  age  of  heroes  are  something  more  than 
the  vague  and  remote  shadows  that  strive  to  live 
in  the  pages  of  the  Publications  of  the  Gaelic  and 
Ossianic  Societies.  He  so  immerses  himself  in  the 
past  that  he  identifies  himself  with  his  heroes  and 
heroines,  they  cease  to  be  legendary  and  become 
for  him  living  men  like  himself,  moving  about  the 
same  country,  treading  the  same  earth — his  ances- 
tors, as  they  are  the  ancestors  of  every  Irishman. 
As  he  ponders  over  the  bardic  tales  he  catches  their 
note  of  epic  grandeur,  and  the  spaciousness  of  dic- 
tion which  characterised  the  bards  of  old  is  reflected 
in  his  own  style.  Thus  he  describes  heroic  Ireland 
as  he  sees  it  in  the  dazzling  light  of  the  bardic 
imagination: 


SOURCES  31 

"But  all  around,  in  surging,  tumultuous  motion,  come  and  go  the 
gorgeous,  unearthly  beings  that  long  ago  emanated  from  bardic 
minds,  a  most  weird  and  mocking  world.  Faces  rush  out  of-the 
darkness,  and  as  swiftly  retreat  again.  Heroes  expand  into  giants 
and  dwindle  into  goblins,  or  fling  aside  the  heroic  form  and  gam- 
bol as  buffoons;  gorgeous  palaces  are  blown  asunder  like  smoke 
wreaths;  kings  with  wands  of  silver  and  ard-roth  of  gold,  move 
with  all  their  state  from  century  to  century;  puissant  heroes, 
whose  fame  reverberates  through  battles,  are  shifted  from  place  to 
place  .  .  .  buried  monarchs  reappear.  .  .  .  The  explorer  visits 
an  enchanted  land  where  he  is  mocked  and  deluded.  Everything 
is  blown  loose  from  its  fastenings.  All  that  should  be  most  stable 
is  whirled  round  and  borne  away  like  foam  or  dead  leaves  in  a 
storm." 

As  befits  a  work  destined  to  be  the  source  of  a  liter- 
ature, O'Grady's  History  has  a  certain  primitive 
energy,  a  naive  amplitude  such  as  we  expect  in  epic 
narrative.  Not  content  with  the  vast  uncharted 
territory  before  him,  in  which  the  annals  of  the  bards 
are  but  stepping  stones  "  set  at  long  distances  in  some 
quaking  Cimmerian  waste,"  he  must  begin  with  the 
Pleistocene  epoch,  and  briefly  trace  the  transforma- 
tions which  preceded  the  inhabitation  of  Ireland  by 
the  human  species!  One  feels  that  he  is  attracted 
to  these  periods  by  the  immensity  of  the  events 
which  they  cover  and  by  the  gigantic  creatures  to 
which  they  gave  birth.  We  see  him  linger  with  the 
delight  of  Homeric  simplicity  over  mastodon  and 
megatherium,  pleiseosauros  and  trogatherium,  the 
size  of  these  monsters  fills  him  with  the  same  satis- 
faction as  he  experiences  when  describing  Ireland, 
sinking  beneath  the  slowly  descending  glaciers  that 
covered  Europe,  or  submerged  by  the  waters  of  the 
ocean,  "as  with  a  vast  millennial  suspiration,  the 
earth's  bosom  fell."  But  these  chapters  are  merely 
the  preliminary  exercises  of  a  mind  enamoured  of 
greatness,  whether  material  or  spiritual.  They 


32   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

hardly  bear  more  relation  to  scientific  accuracy, 
than  the  geology  and  geography  of  the  Iliad.  The 
historian  soon  reaches  the  borders  of  the  vast 
dominion,  where  the  legendary  and  the  historical 
mingle  in  a  shadowy  confusion,  which  he  has  under- 
taken to  survey.  Here  he  pauses  for  a  moment, 
arrested  by  the  thought  of  separating  the  facts  of 
history  from  the  visions  of  the  bards,  but  his  scruples 
vanish  as  he  recollects  the  beauties  of  the  legend 
and  their  significance  in  the  life  of  a  people.  "They 
are  that  kind  of  history  a  nation  desires  to  possess. 
They  betray  the  ambition  and  ideals  of  the  people, 
and,  in  that  respect,  have  a  value  beyond  the  tale 
of  actual  events  and  duly  recorded  deeds."  In  his 
eyes  "Achilles  and  Troy  appear  somehow  more  real 
than  Histiceus  and  Miletus;  Cuculain  and  Emain 
Macha  than  Brian  Boromh  and  Kincorah." 

Standish  O'Grady  sees  the  gods  and  demigods, 
the  heroes  and  kings  of  Irish  history,  with  the  eyes 
of  an  epic  imagination.  He  is  not  concerned  with 
deciding  the  exact  point  at  which  the  legends  merge 
into  history,  but  embraces  the  whole  epoch,  assimi- 
lating all  that  is  best  and  most  lordly  in  the  bardic 
compositions  with  the  knowledge  gleaned  from  all 
manner  of  sources,  contemporary  documents  and 
recent  commentaries.  The  result  is  an  astonishingly 
vigorous  narrative,  which  rolls  along  with  a  mighty 
sweep,  carrying  the  reader  into  the  very  midst  of  the 
great  life  of  the  heroic  period.  The  past  lives  again 
in  these  pages,  lit  up  by  the  brilliance  of  a  mind 
stored  with  a  wealth  of  romantic  vision. 

The  first  volume  of  the  History  begins,  properly 
speaking,  with  the  foundation  of  Emain  Macha,  and 
relates  mainly  to  the  incidents  of  the  Cattle  Spoil  of 
Coolney,  or  Tain  Bo-Cuailgne.  Incidentally  the 
story  of  Deirdre  is  told,  and  the  whole  work  is  inter- 


SOURCES  33 

woven  with  numerous  myths  and  charming  snatches 
of  Celtic  folk-lore.  Valuable  as  they  are  in  creating 
atmosphere  and  in  renewing  tradition,  they  do  not 
constitute  the  greatest  merit  of  the  book.  Its  real 
distinction  lies  in  the  wonderful  series  of  graphic 
pictures  which  the  author  has  drawn  of  the  great 
spoil.  This,  the  chief  of  the  epic  romances  of  Irish 
literature,  is  conceived  in  truly  epical  spirit.  The 
protagonists,  Maeve,  Fergus,  Ferdia,  on  the  one  side, 
Conchobar,  Laeg  and,  above  all  Cuculain,  on  the 
other — these  stand  out  in  fine  relief.  We  move 
between  the  camps  of  the  contending  hosts,  we 
attend  their  councils  of  war,  we  hear  their  cries  of 
joy  and  grief,  we  sit  amid  their  feasts.  As  he  nar- 
rates the  events  of  this  struggle  between  Maeve  and 
the  Red  Branch,  Standish  O'Grady  attains  to  some- 
thing of  the  style  of  the  Greek  historians.  His 
manner  of  rendering  the  speeches  of  the  chieftains 
and  warriors  reminds  us,  sometimes  of  the  sim- 
plicity— so  penetrating  and  effective — of  Herodotus, 
sometimes  of  the  terse  word-painting  of  Thucydides. 
When  he  leaves  the  main  course  of  events  to  evoke 
some  picture  of  contemporary  manners,  the  feasting 
of  the  heroes,  the  domestic  employments  of  the 
women,  the  games  of  the  children,  the  contests  of  the 
youths,  he  achieves,  at  his  best,  the  naivete  and 
simple  grandeur  of  Homer.  He  has  the  truly  Celtic 
love  of  the  sonorous  phrase,  but  his  style  bears 
traces  of  his  classical  scholarship. 

The  finest  qualities  of  the  historian  are  revealed 
by  his  treatment  of  the  story  of  Cuculain.  Step 
by  step  this  heroic  and  lordly  nature  is  unfolded 
before  us  with  the  skill  and  sympathy  which  come 
of  deep  understanding  coupled  wfth  a  power  of 
vision  and  expression.  We  feel  that  there  is  a  har- 
mony between  the  author  and  his  subject  to  which 


34   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

we  owe  this  great  and  spirited  re-creation.  We  see 
the  child,  his  eager  mind  filled  with  the  stories  of 
his  country's  heroes,  meditate  his  escape  to  the 
martial  life  of  Emain  Macha.  A  charming  picture 
he  presents,  this  child  of  ten  years  old,  as  he  eludes 
his  mothers  anxious  vigilance  and  sets  out  for 
Emain,  armed  with  his  wooden  shield  and  little 
sword  of  lath.  In  his  first  trial  of  strength  with  his 
contemporaries  we  are  made  to  feel  the  promise  of 
his  future  exploits,  the  incident  is  all  the  more  real, 
too,  because  of  the  natural  way  in  which  it  is  de- 
scribed as  arising  out  of  a  quarrel  between  a  group 
of  Ultonian  boys,  playing  at  hurling,  and  the  intrud- 
ing stranger.  Similarly,  the  legend  of  the  naming 
of  Cuculain,  so  remote  and  colourless  in  Ferguson's 
poem,  is  impressed  upon  the  reader  by  an  equal 
freshness  and  vivacity  of  narrative.  In  the  glow  of 
his  enthusiasm  and  imagination,  Cuculain  lives  as 
he  could  never  have  lived  in  the  cold  precision  of 
Ferguson's  Lays.  With  what  skill  he  evokes  Cuculain's 
life  at  Emain,  his  military  training  under  Fergus, 
his  ever-increasing  prowess  at  arms,  and  finally  his 
knighthood,  preparatory  to  his  entry  upon  the  great 
stage  which  he  was  to  dominate — the  battlefields 
of  heroic  Ireland.  Cuculain  submits  all  the  proofs 
of  strength  and  military  science  exacted  by  his 
judges,  and  at  last  receives  the  chariot  which  is  to  be 
his  aid  and  witness  in  the  mighty  deeds  which  he 
subsequently  performed  on  behalf  of  Ultonia. 

"Like  a  hawk  swooping  along  the  face  of  a  cliff  when  the  wind  is 
high,  or  like  the  rush  of  the  March  wind  over  the  smooth  plain,  or 
like  the  fleetness  of  the  stag  roused  from  his  lair  by  the  hounds, 
and  covering  his  first  field,  was  the  rush  of  those  steeds  when  they 
had  broken  through  the  restraint  of  the  charioteer  as  though  they 
galloped  over  fiery  flags,  so  that  the  earth  shook  and  trembled 
with  the  velocity  of  their  motion,  and  all  the  time  the  great  car 


SOURCES  35 

brayed  and  shrieked  as  the  wheels  of  solid  and  glittering  bronze 
went  round,  for  there  were  demons  that  had  their  abode  in  that 
car." 

We  enter  now  upon  the  most  significant  and  illus- 
trious phase  of  Cuculain's  career.  With  the  breath- 
less interest  of  romance  the  History  carries  us  along 
from  one  scene  to  another  in  the  dramatic  struggle 
of  Maeve  against  the  Ultonians.  The  long  series  of 
single  combats  in  which  the  champions  of  Maeve, 
in  their  turn,  stand  against  Cuculain,  the  sole 
guardian  of  his  clan,  alternate  with  the  plots  and 
schemes  of  the  Queen  to  remove  by  some  trick  this 
youth  who  bars  the  path  of  her  march  northward. 
Admiration  is  divided  between  the  vigorous  intensity 
with  which  these  great  duels  are  described  and  the 
telling  effect  of  the  descriptions  of  Maeve's  relations 
with  her  soldiers  and  advisers.  In  the  former,  with 
all  the  attendant  circumstances  of  supernatural 
phenomena,  demons  and  gods  who  participate  only 
to  heighten  the  fierceness  and  terror  of  the  struggle, 
the  gigantic  figures  of  the  combatants  are  as  near 
to  us  and  as  real  as  though  they  were  men  of  to-day. 
In  the  latter,  we  learn  to  know  Maeve,  not  merely 
as  the  warrior-queen  and  rival  of  Conchobar,  but  as 
a  woman,  spiteful,  unscrupulous  and  headstrong, 
and  of  a  temper  so  quick  that  when  her  counsellor 
Fergus  remonstrated  at  her  imprudence,  she  hurled 
a  spear  at  him.  "But  ere  she  could  seize  another," 
we  are  told,  "he  ran  to  her,  and  seized  her  with  his 
strong  hands  and  forced  her  back  into  her  throne, 
and  held  her  still,  and  she  spat  at  him."  In  their 
strength  and  weakness  these  semi-legendary  figures 
are  wonderfully  near  to  common  humanity  as  they 
move  across  the  pages  of  Standish  O'Grady's  history. 

The  finest  chapters  are  those  of  the  latter  portion 
of  the  book  in  which  we  find  Cuculain  forsaken,  but 


36   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

unconquerable,  as  he  holds  the  ford  against  his 
adversaries.  Day  after  day  he  struggles  with  a 
new  champion,  and  emerges  a  victor  from  the 
encounter,  but  in  his  lonely  mountain  hiding-place 
his  mind  is  torn  with  grief  and  wonder  at  the  con- 
tinued absence  of  his  kinsmen.  The  arrival  of  his 
father  serves  to  settle  his  doubts,  for  now  he  learns 
of  the  spell  that  has  been  cast  upon  the  Red  Branch, 
so  that  they  are  unconscious  of  the  peril  of  Cuculain 
and  of  his  valour  on  their  behalf.  The  pathos  of 
this  scene,  the  old  man  powerless  to  assist  his  son, 
the  latter's  tender  care  for  his  father  in  spite  of 
exhaustion  and  danger,  these  are  the  traits  which 
help  us  to  realise  the  nobility  of  Cuculain.  With 
consummate  insight  Standish  O'Grady  contrives 
to  give  the  necessary  light  and  shade  to  the  portrayal 
of  this  heroic  being.  While  bringing  into  promi- 
nence the  terrible  strength,  the  extraordinary  skill 
and  endurance  of  Cuculain,  he  never  fails  to  illus- 
trate his  contrasting  qualities  of  gentleness  and 
kindness  which  excite  the  love  and  admiration  of  his 
enemies.  Thus  we  see  Cuculain  conquer  Maeve 
herself,  in  a  moment  of  truce,  by  the  loveliness  of 
his  disposition,  we  hear  his  touching  conversation 
with  Fergus  who,  forgetting  his  office  of  Councillor 
and  General  to  Maeve,  steals  off  at  night  to  the 
mountains  to  comfort  his  former  pupil,  whom  he  is 
debarred  from  assisting  by  the  rules  of  warfare. 
Especially  beautiful  is  the  account  of  the  final  en- 
counter which  closes  the  first  volume.  Using  the 
most  unscrupulous  means  Maeve  persuades  Ferdia 
to  engage  with  Cuculain,  his  old  friend  and  comrade 
at  arms.  When  Cuculain  sees  this  new  adversary, 
he  is  overcome  by  emotion,  the  fierce  warrior  that 
is  in  him  is  subdued  for  a  moment  by  the  voice  of 
memory  and  friendship.  The  combatants  appeal  to 


SOURCES  37 

one  another  in  the  name  of  their  affection,  each 
entreating  the  other  to  surrender,  that  he  may  be 
spared  the  pain  of  inflicting  death  to  one  beloved. 
Skilfully  the  dialogue  passes  from  affectionate  en- 
treaty to  sterner  remonstrance,  then  to  reproaches 
and  upbraidings,  taunt  follows  taunt,  until  the 
irreparable  words  are  spoken  and  the  two  mighty 
champions  are  engaged. 

"Then  drew  Fardia  his  mighty  sword  that  made  a  flaming  cres- 
cent as  it  flashed  most  bright  and  terrible,  and  rushed  headlong 
upon  Cuculain,  and  they  met  in  the  midst  of  the  ford.  But 
straightway  there  arose  a  spray  and  a  mist  from  the  trampling  of 
the  heroes,  and  through  the  mist  their  forms  moved  hugely,  like 
two  giants  of  the  Fomoroh  contending  in  a  storm.  But  the  war- 
demons  too,  contended  around  them  fighting,  the  Bocanah  and 
Bananahs,  the  wild  people  of  the  glens  and  the  demon  of  the  air, 
and  the  fiercer  and  more  blood-thirsty  of  the  Tuatha  de  Danan. 
.  .  .  But  the  warriors  of  Maeve  turned  pale,  and  the  war-steeds 
brake  loose  and  flew  through  the  plain  with  the  war-cars,  and  the 
women  and  camp-followers  brake  forth  and  fled,  and  the  upper 
water  of  the  divine  stream  gathered  together  for  fear,  and  reared 
itself  aloft  like  a  steed  that  has  seen  a  spectre,  with  jags  of  torn 
water  and  tossing  foam." 

Fierce  and  bloody  the  horrible  struggle  continues, 
accompanied  by  the  dreadful  shouts  of.the  people  of 
Ferdia,  only  restrained  from  aiding  their  chief  by 
the  forcible  intervention  of  Fergus.  At  last  Cucu- 
lain is  victorious,  his  friend  lies  torn  and  mutilated 
at  his  feet,  dead  like  all  the  other  champions  who 
tried  to  force  the  gates  of  the  north.  But  soon  the 
war-demons  pass  out  of  him,  and  he  joins  the  enemy 
in  lamenting  the  dead.  The  narrative  concludes: 

"He  took  off  the  cath-barr  from  the  head  of  Fardia,  and  un- 
wound his  yellow  hair,  tress  after  bright  tress,  most  beautiful, 
shedding  many  tears,  and  he  opened  the  battle-dress  and  took  out 
the  queen's  brooch — that  for  which  his  friend  had  come  to  slay 
him — and  he  cursed  the  lifeless  metal,  and  cast  it  from  him  into 
the  air,  southwards  over  the  host,  and  men  saw  it  no  more." 


38    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Then  Cuculain  strides  to  his  resting-place  in  the 
mountains  where  Laeg  comes  to  his  assistance. 
The  book  closes  upon  the  scene  of  the  hero  resting 
under  the  care  of  his  faithful  friend  who  in  a  vision 
had  seen  his  plight,  and  roused  the  spellbound  men 
of  the  Red  Branch  from  their  unnatural  inertia.  In 
a  magnificent  closing  chapter  we  see  Cuculain  vis- 
ited by  the  gods  throughout  Erin,  the  Sidh  from  the 
bright  land  of  Tir-na-noge,  the  Tuatha  de  Danaan, 
all  come  to  pay  homage  to,  and  comfort,  the  brave 
warrior  who  was  able  to  converse  with  them,  "being 
noble  of  heart  like  themselves." 


II 

The  second  part  of  the  History  of  Ireland  did  not 
appear  until  1880.  Meanwhile,  in  1879,  appeared 
the  interesting  essay  on  Early  Bardic  Literature, 
which  provided  an  instructive  exegesis  on  the  entire 
History,  and  was  subsequently  reprinted  as  an 
Introduction  to  the  concluding  volume.  Here  Stand- 
ish  O'Grady  makes  an  eloquent  plea  on  behalf  of 
the  bardic  remains  of  Ireland,  pointing  out  their 
value  as  historical  documents,  and  vindicating  them 
against  the  neglect  of  the  English-speaking  literary 
world.  Ancient  Irish  literature  "with  its  hundred 
epics"  is  relegated  to  the  care  of  pure  scholarship, 
whereas  its  great  antiquity  should  give  it  a  peculiar 
interest  to  all  Aryan  nations.  The  Nibelungen- 
lied,  a  modern  production  beside  some  of  the  bardic 
tales,  secures  attention,  even  MacPherson's  Ossian 
is  familar  to  the  literary  classes,  as  O'Grady  indig- 
nantly observes,  but  the  wonderful  epic  cycles  of 
Ireland  are  unknown  or  ignored.  In  thus  asserting 
the  claims  of  bardic  literature,  he  is  obviously  pro- 
claiming the  intention  of  his  own  work  and,  as  we 


SOURCES  39 

know,  his  appeal  was  not  in  vain,  so  far  as  his  own 
countrymen  are  concerned.  Circumstances  have 
since  rendered  most  of  his  arguments  inapplicable_to 
present  conditions,  but  without  under-estimating 
labours  of  recent  writers  in  the  same  field,  we  cannot 
but  recognise  in  Standish  O'Grady  the  pioneer.  By 
an  unusual  combination  of  scholarly  precept  with 
literary  practice  he  succeeded  in  dispersing  the 
clouds  of  prejudice  and  ignorance  that  obscured  a 
glittering  source  of  inspiration  from  the  eyes  of  the 
poets. 

Valuable  as  this  essay  is  as  the  preliminary  mani- 
festo of  the  Literary  Revival,  and  as  a  succinct  state- 
ment of  the  main  facts  relating  to  the  ancient  liter- 
ature of  Ireland,  it  derives  an  incidental  interest  as  a 
sort  of  apologia  for  the  author's  conception  of  history 
as  revealed  in  his  first  book.  This  latter,  it  goes 
without  saying,  possessed  none  of  the  charms  of  the 
usual,  and  the  critics,  with  one  or  two  exceptions, 
accorded  it  the  traditional  reception  extended  to 
innovators.  In  the  course  of  a  remarkably  appre- 
ciative criticism,  The  Spectator,  it  is  true,  displayed 
unique  foresight  and  sympathy  by  enquiring  why 
the  Irish  poets  have  left  unwrought  "this  rich  mine 
of  the  virgin  poetry  of  their  country."  "Why  does 
not  some  one  arise  among  them,"  the  reviewer  asks, 
"aspiring  to  do  for  these  legends  what  Tennyson 
has  done  for  the  legends  of  King  Arthur  and  the 
Knights  of  the  Round  Table?" 

This  solitary  instance  of  a  genuine  insight  into  the 
author's  purpose  was  nevertheless  not  sufficient  to 
allay  the  fears  awakened  in  him  by  the  hostile  refer- 
ences to  his  naive  geology,  his  fantastic  geography 
and  the  general  incoherence  of  his  want  of  historical 
method.  It  is  evidently  with  such  faultfinders  in 
his  mind  that  he  emphasises  the  difficulties  of  the 


40   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

historian  who  has  to  deal  with  the  bardic  material; 
the  impossibility  of  distinguishing  between  truth 
and  fiction  as  evidenced  by  the  presence  or  absence 
of  the  marvellous,  the  enormous  mass  of  literature 
to  be  considered,  and  the  necessity  for  considering 
every  document.  Thus  he  is  led  to  declare  that 
the  only  effective  method  of  treating  this  heroic 
literature  in  connection  with  the  history  of  Ireland 
would  be  to  print  it  exactly  as  it  is  without  excision 
or  condensation,  adopting  the  order  determined  by 
the  bards  themselves.  Such  a  task,  however,  is 
beyond  the  power  of  any  single  individual,  and  must 
be  performed  under  the  supervision  of  the  Royal 
Irish  Academy.  Having  thus  suggested  the  ideal 
history,  he  rapidly  dismisses  as  out  of  the  question 
the  familiar  method  of  tabulating  names  and  dates, 
and  falls  back  upon  his  own  plan,  on  the  ground  of 
its  being  justified  by  the  circumstances  explained. 
Admitting  that  his  mode  of  writing  history  is  open 
to  "many  obvious  objections,"  he  once  again  formu- 
lates his  intention,  this  time  in  words  curiously 
prophetic  of  his  ultimate  success : 

"I  desire  to  make  this  heroic  period  once  again  a  portion  of  the 
imagination  of  the  country,  and  its  chief  characters  as  familiar 
in  the  minds  of  our  people  as  they  once  were.  ...  If  I  can  awake 
an  interest  in  the  career  of  even  a  single  ancient  Irish  king,  I  shall 
establish  a  train  of  thoughts,  which  will  advance  easily  from  thence 
to  the  state  of  society  in  which  he  lived,  and  the  kings  and  heroes 
who  surrounded,  preceded  or  followed  him.  Attention  and  interest 
once  fully  aroused,  concerning  even  one  feature  of  this  landscape 
of  ancient  history,  could  be  easily  widened  and  extended  in  its 
scope. " 

In  spite  of  this  confession  of  faith,  when  the  con- 
cluding volume  of  the  History  appeared  in  1880,  it 
was  prefaced  by  a  chronological  sketch  of  the  entire 
period  covered  by  the  two  volumes.  This  was 


SOURCES  41 

clearly  a  concession  to  the  demand  for  definite  out- 
lines and  precise  facts.  Without  it,  the  author 
feared  his  History  might  be  referred  "to  a  different 
order  of  romantic  composition  than  that  to  which 
it  really  belongs."  While  admitting  that  this  sketch 
is  not  without  its  utility,  most  readers  will  wish  that 
it  had  been  an  appendix,  rather  than  that  it  should 
interrupt  the  narrative  which  is  here  continued  to 
the  death  of  Cuculain.  The  insertion  of  both  the 
introductory  essay  on  bardic  literature  and  this 
preface,  between  the  points  at  which  the  story 
breaks  off  in  the  first  volume  and  begins  in  the 
second,  constitutes  a  blunder  in  form  which  might 
easily  have  been  avoided. 

Nevertheless  these  defects  do  not  seriously  detract 
from  the  merits  of  this  final  portion  of  the  History, 
in  which  the  Cuculain  epic  reaches  its  apogee,  losing 
none  of  its  sublime  grandeur  and  weird  terror  in  the 
process  of  reconstruction.  When  the  narrative  is 
resumed  the  hero  is  still  lying  weak  and  in  the  care 
of  Laeg  after  the  last  great  duel  with  Ferdia.  While 
he  thus  remains  in  the  background  the  history  is 
concerned  with  Maeve  and  her  followers.  A  succes- 
sion of  striking  pictures  explains  the  course  of  events 
in  the  camp  of  the  Queen,  who  has  invaded  and 
plundered  Ultonia  during  the  temporary  cessation  of 
Cuculain's  activities,  while  incidentally  enabling  the 
reader  to  obtain  a  vivid  insight  into  the  life  and  cus- 
toms of  the  heroic  age.  The  great  feast  at  which 
Maeve  and  her  courtiers  celebrate  their  invasion  of 
Ultonia,  the  songs  of  the  bard,  as  he  entertains  the 
warriors  with  the  incidents  of  the  Tain  from  earliest 
days  of  the  Red  Branch  down  to  the  events  in  which 
his  hearers  had  just  participated,  the  visions  and 
portents  that  strike  fear  into  the  hearts  of  the  revel- 
lers, the  prophecies  of  the  Druid  Cailitin,  and  finally, 


42   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

the  hurried  preparations  to  meet  the  host  of  Concobar 
approaching  to  intercept  the  retreat  of  the  invaders — 
these  are  the  preliminary  graphic  touches  filling  in 
the  foreground  of  the  canvas  upon  which  the  artist 
is  to  evoke  the  apotheosis  of  heroic  Ireland. 

The  ensuing  battle  of  Gaura  is  related  with  that 
spirit  and  extraordinary  power  of  visualisation  which 
have  endowed  the  work  of  Standish  O'Grady  with 
such  a  special  significance  in  the  revival  of  Irish  lit- 
erature. We  see  the  great  plain  filled  with  mighty 
hosts  of  the  Four  Provinces  of  Erin  and  the  men  of 
the  Red  Branch;  the  shouts  of  the  warriors,  the  rattle 
of  the  chariots,  are  the  roar  of  this  sea  of  giant 
humanity.  The  chieftains  move  before  us  with 
their  men,  and  each  is  made  to  stand  out  by  some 
deft  touch  which  heightens  the  relief,  so  that,  im- 
mense as  the  picture  is,  it  is  not  blurred  or  con- 
fused, but  is  a  clear  visualisation.  In  contrast  to 
the  swaying,  struggling  masses  on  the  plain,  we  are 
shown  Cuculain  asleep  in  his  tent,  his  strength  visibly 
returning  as  he  slumbers  and  dreams,  unconscious  of 
the  peril  of  the  Red  Branch.  In  his  sleep  comes  a 
vision,  the  god  Lu  appears  summoning  him  to  the 
battle,  and  promising  him  divine  aid  to  overcome  the 
supernatural  forces  he  will  have  to  encounter.  Cucu- 
lain arises,  goes  into  the  field  and  surpasses  in  strength, 
valour,  magnanimity  all  that  men  had  imagined. 
Surrounded  by  tutelary  gods  and  demons  of  slaughter, 
he  sweeps  the  armies  of  Maeve  before  him;  his  form 
is  now  seen  in  the  mist  of  panic  and  terror,  gigantic, 
invulnerable,  invincible.  Cuculain  here  enters  upon 
the  greatest  and  last  phase  of  his  career  where,  with- 
out ceasing  to  be  human,  he  has  taken  on  the  attri- 
butes of  divinity. 

"Out  of  his  countenance  there  went  as  it  were  lightnings,  showers 
of  deadly  stars  rained  forth  from  the  dark  western  clouds  above  his 


SOURCES  43 

head,  and  there  was  a  sound  as  of  thunder  round  him,  and  cries 
not  of  his  own  coming  from  unseen  mouths,  and  dreadful  faces 
came  and  went  upon  the  wind,  and  visages  not  seen  in  Erin  for  a 
thousand  years  were  present  around  the  hero  that  day." 

Thus  he  is  shown  to  us  as  he  goes  forth  to  battle 
against  the  Four  Provinces,  and  so  he  appears 
throughout  many  fine  pages  of  the  History. 

In  the  end,  however,  the  forces  of  his  divine  pro- 
tectors are  unable  to  withstand  the  powers  of  evil, 
he  loses  his  magic  attributes  and  is  vanquished  in 
the  final  downfall  of  the  Ultonians.  In  describing 
the  last  hosting  of  the  Four  Provinces  against  Cu- 
culain  O'Grady  loses  none  of  his  effective  power. 
The  concluding  chapters  relating  the  distress  of 
Cuculain  as  he  fights  against  the  demons  and  in- 
visible hosts  of  darkness,  the  hero's  farewell  to  his 
wife  Emer,  his  desperate  struggles  when,  shorn  of  his 
glory,  he  goes  to  war  "like  one  who  has  devoted 
himself  to  death,"  and  finally  his  death  from  the  spear 
which  passed  first  through  his  body  before  piercing 
that  of  Laeg — these  chapters  sustain  the  lofty  note 
which  characterises  the  whole  History.  There  is  the 
same  evidence  of  imagination  and  sympathy  in  the 
picture  of  Cuculain  as  he  leaves  his  wife,  with  his 
little  son  clinging  to  him  and  asking  when  he  will 
return,  as  in  this  tragic  scene  when  the  hero  falls 
mortally  wounded: 

"Thereat  the  sun  darkened,  and  the  earth  trembled,  and  a  wail  of 
agony  from  immortal  mouths  shrilled  across  the  land  and  a  pale 
panic  smote  the  host  of  Maeve  when,  with  a  crash,  fell  that  pillar 
of  heroism,  and  that  flame  of  the  warlike  valour  of  Erin  was 
extinguished." 

The  book  closes  upon  the  mighty  figure  as  he  stands 
on  an  eminence,  sword  in  hand  and  with  the  rays 
of  the  setting  sun  upon  his  helmet,  for  he  has 
bound  himself  to  a  pillar  that  he  may  die  neither 


44   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

sitting  or  lying,  as  was  prophesied.  From  a  dis- 
tance it  seems  to  the  host  of  Maeve  that  he  is  im- 
mortal, so  that  even  in  the  agony  of  death  he  strikes 
terror  into  the  hearts  of  his  enemies. 


in 

As  we  have  seen,  Standish  O'Grady's  method  of 
writing  history  drew  upon  him  the  adverse  criticism 
of  those  who  held  to  the  orthodox  conception  of 
historiography,  so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  in  his  second 
volume  he  felt  called  upon  to  make  certain  conces- 
sions to  such  critics  and  to  enter  a  defence  of  his  own 
style.  Not  content  with  this,  he  published  in  1 88 1 
the  first  volume  of  a  Critical  and  Philosophical  His- 
tory, which  was  by  way  of  redeeming  his  former 
errors,  and  offering  to  the  public  a  more  conventional 
study  of  the  same  period  traversed  by  his  earlier 
work.  This  History,  however,  was  never  completed, 
and  now  serves  only  to  bear  witness  to  the  soundness 
of  the  instinct  which  prompted  the  author  to  abandon 
himself  in  the  first  instance  to  the  visualisation  of  a 
naturally  epic  imagination.  Perhaps  it  may  be 
profitably  regarded  as  a  commentary  or  appendix 
to  the  Bardic  History.  O'Grady  strives  earnestly  to 
conform  to  the  traditional  manner,  quoting  dates, 
citing  authorities,  and  explaining  legends,  but  be- 
neath the  array  of  facts  is  felt  the  throb  of  romance 
and  of  poetry.  At  times  this  restraint  is  relaxed 
and  the  bardic  note  is  heard  again.  Sometimes  he 
interpolates  passages  from  the  earlier  history,  and 
even  elaborates  them,  as  in  the  famous  dialogue 
between  Ossian  and  St.  Patrick,  sometimes  he  sim- 
ply follows  the  bent  of  his  mind,  forgetting  the 
critics  he  would  placate,  and  once  more  the  material 
of  heroic  Ireland  glows  with  the  life  breathed  into 


SOURCES  45 

it  by  the  epic  spirit.  The  following  description  of 
Cuculain  on  the  field  of  battle  might  well  be  mistaken 
for  a  passage  from  the  Bardic  History: 

"Fear  and  Panic  go  out  before  him;  from  his  eyes  glare  vivid 
lightnings;  the  lips  shrink  away  from  his  mouth,  and  between  his 
crashing  teeth  a  voice  like  near  thunder  bellows.  .  .  .  Black  clouds 
gather  round  him  pouring  forth  showers  of  deadly  stars,  the  blood 
starts  from  his  hair  which  lashes  the  wind  with  gory  whips,  and  all 
the  demons  that  exult  in  carnage  and  in  blood  roar  around  him, 
while  like  the  sound  of  a  mighty  drum  his  heart  beats." 

The  imaginative  element  is  too  strong  to  be  long 
held  in  check,  and  in  the  pages  of  this  volume  it  fre- 
quently preponderates  at  the  expense  of  the  critical 
and  philosophical  intentions  of  the  author.  Un- 
fortunately such  passages  derive  an  inevitable  in- 
congruity from  their  juxtaposition  with  matter  of  a 
purely  prosaic  and  historic  nature,  and  seem  curi- 
ously out  of  place  in  a  work  of  this  kind.  It  is  easy, 
therefore,  to  understand  why  the  second  volume  was 
never  published.  The  first  remains,  odd  and  incon- 
clusive, to  emphasise  the  essentially  epical  and 
poetic  quality  of  Standish  O'Grady's  genius  and  to 
illustrate  his  inability  to  break  the  mould  of  his 
mind. 

Unable  or  unwilling  to  adopt  the  conventional 
historical  methods,  O'Grady  was  forced  to  find  some 
other  medium  by  which  to  give  expression  to  his 
peculiar  talent  for  historic  reconstruction.  Given 
the  preponderance  of  the  romantic  and  imaginative 
in  his  work,  it  was  clear  that  the  most  obvious  path 
must  lead  him  to  the  novel.  Henceforward  we  shall 
find  him  employing  his  activities,  almost  exclusively 
in  the  field  of  romance.  It  is  true  that  he  did  not 
altogether  forsake  pure  history,  but  his  editorship  of 
Pacata  Hibernia  in  1897  does  not  call  for  considera- 
tion in  a  study  of  the  Literary  Revival  in  Ireland. 


46  '  IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Similarly,  his  political  writings,  The  Crisis  in  Ireland 
(1882),  Toryism  and  the  Tory  Democracy  (1889)  and 
All  Ireland  (1898)  need  only  be  mentioned  in  pass- 
ing. They  all  possess  unusual  qualities  and  have 
more  claim  to  be  considered  as  literature  than  might 
be  anticipated  from  their  original  scope  and  purpose. 
Toryism  and  the  Tory  Democracy,  in  particular,  is  an 
interesting  instance  of  the  application  of  O'Grady's 
method  to  history  somewhat  less  remote  than  that 
of  heroic  Ireland,  to  the  period  preceding  and  cover- 
ing the  first  years  of  the  union  of  the  English  and 
Irish  Parliaments.  Most  remarkable  is  the  section 
Ireland  and  the  Hour,  in  which,  continuing  The 
Crisis  in  Ireland,  the  author  addresses  the  Irish  land- 
owners. This  eloquent  indictment  of  a  worthless 
aristocracy,  lost  to  all  sense  of  its  duties,  clinging 
fearfully  to  the  protection  of  England,  and  devoid 
of  those  intellectual  and  spiritual  qualities  which 
alone  could  justify  its  privileges  or  excuse  its  inso- 
lence— this  indictment  is  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of 
political  writing  in  Irish  literature.  The  pen  that 
wrote  the  Bardic  History  is  easily  recognisable, 
whether  it  be  in  the  passages  that  so  remorselessly 
sum  up  the  continued  years  of  incompetence  and 
neglect,  or  those  in  which  the  glories  of  the  great 
Irish  aristocracies  of  the  past  are  evoked  in  forcible 
contrast.  It  is  surely  the  mark  of  genius  that  a 
work  written  for  the  moment  should  endure  by  its 
intrinsic  worth.  Like  the  pamphlets  of  Swift, 
O'Grady's  Tory  Democracy  possesses  those  qualities 
of  style  and  emotion  which  enable  such  writings  to 
retain  their  interest  when  their  object  has  long  since 
been  accomplished,  or  has  ceased  to  engage  public 
attention.  The  landed  aristocracy  is  no  longer  a 
factor  in  Irish  life,  other  economic  problems  have 
taken  the  place  of  that  which  exercised  the  scorn, 


SOURCES  47 

the  eloquence  and  the  intelligence  of  Standish 
O'Grady.  As  indicating  how  his  influence  has 
transcended  the  occasion  of  its  immediate  exercise, 
it  is  significant  that,  in  indicating  the  class  which  has 
replaced  the  landowners  in  the  economic  struggle,  the 
poet,  A.  E.,  has  been  inspired  to  renew  the  eloquent 
tradition  of  Ireland  and  the  Hour. 

The  series  of  historical  romances  which  followed 
the  publication  of  the  histories  fall  into  two  groups, 
the  one  dealing  with  heroic  age,  the  other  with  the 
Elizabethan  Ireland.  Contrary  to  what  might  be 
expected,  it  was  not  from  the  bardic  material  that 
O'Grady's  first  novel  was  fashioned,  fresh  as  this 
material  must  have  been  in  his  mind.  Perhaps, 
indeed,  the  comprehensive  studies  he  had  already 
given  of  heroic  Ireland,  induced  him  to  break  new 
ground  by  turning  to  the  Elizabethan  period,  and 
to  come  forward  as  a  novelist  in  1889  with  Red 
Hugh's  Captivity.  In  describing  this  work  as  a 
novel,  advantage  has  been  taken  of  the  proverbial 
amorphousness  of  the  genre.  Red  Hugh's  Captivity 
hesitates  between  the  history  and  the  novel,  and 
might  almost  indifferently  be  attributed  to  either, 
particularly  in  view  of  the  author's  conception  of 
history.  From  the  Introduction  it  is  evident  that 
O'Grady  intends  to  do  for  Irish  history  in  the  six- 
teenth century  what  he  had  previously  done  for  the 
heroic  period.  Now,  however,  instead  of  the  bardic 
literature,  contemporary  State  papers  and  subse- 
quent histories  provide  him  with  a  vast  field  in  which 
his  restless  imagination  and  inventive  genius  are 
given  free  play. 

In  selecting  the  Elizabethan  era  Standish  O'Grady 
found  himself  in  the  presence  of  conditions  somewhat 
analogous  to  those  that  gave  birth  to  his  Bardic 
History.  The  work  of  the  various  historians,  excel- 


48    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

lent  as  it  was  from  the  technical  standpoint,  could 
never  hope  to  bring  the  period  vividly  home  to  the 
minds  of  the  vast  general  public.  The  Annals  of  the 
Four  Masters,  O'Clery's  Bardic  Life  of  Hugh  Roe,  or 
the  more  recent  works  of  Froude  and  others,  were  no 
more  likely  to  reach  the  uninitiated  than  the  writ- 
ings of  the  ancient  bards  or  the  studies  of  Keatinge 
and  O'Curry.  If  the  fruit  of  their  researches  and 
labours  was  to  become  part  of  the  national  inheri- 
tance, it  was  essential  that  some  one  should  appear 
with  sufficient  energy,  enthusiasm  and  literary 
ability  to  remould  this  material  and  throw  it  into 
common  circulation.  As  O'Grady  had  lighted  up 
the  obscure  region  of  Irish  legend  and  mythology 
with  the  flashes  of  a  brilliant  imagination,  so  he 
undertook  to  illumine  the  gloomy  waste  of  six- 
teenth-century Irish  history. 

This  century  is  one  of  vital  interest  to  Irishmen, 
for  it  witnessed  the  struggle  of  Gaelic  Ireland  against 
her  assimilation  by  England,  resulting  in  the  incor- 
poration of  the  Irish  with  the  English-speaking  race. 
The  age  was  crowded  with  remarkable  personalities, 
the  Irish  chiefs  and  petty  kings  whose  resistance  to 
England  constituted  the  last  stand  of  the  old  Gaelic 
and  feudal  order  against  English  civilisation.  Natu- 
rally, however,  the  more  general  histories  of  the  time 
could  not  do  justice  to  these  figures,  and  the  events 
in  which  they  were  concerned,  so,  as  a  rule,  they 
were  hastily  sketched  in  as  very  minor  detail  in  a 
large  picture.  While  recognising  this  as  inevitable 
in  the  circumstances,  Standish  O'Grady  determined 
to  devote  a  series  of  smaller  pictures  to  filling  in  pre- 
cisely this  detail,  so  important  to  Irishmen,  and  so 
neglected  in  the  comprehensive  studies  of  the  pro- 
fessional historians.  Shane  O'Neill,  Feagh  mac- 
Hugh  O'Byrne,  Red  Hugh  O'Donnell— all  the  great 


SOURCES  49 

chieftains  are  rescued  from  what  he  describes  so 
aptly  as  "the  sombre  immortality  of  the  bookshelf." 
They  and  their  followers  are  presented  in  the  setting 
of  their  own  stirring  times,  a  background  filled  with 
patiently  elaborated  sketches  of  feudal  life  and 
customs. 

In  Red  Hugh's  Captivity,  as  has  been  suggested, 
O'Grady  does  not  seem  quite  sure  of  his  style,  which 
oscillates  between  pure  history  and  romance.  The 
narrative  is  too  frequently  obscured  or  interrupted 
by  the  clumsy  interposition  of  historical  data,  as 
though  the  author  were  overburdened  with  the  re- 
sults of  his  researches  in  the  archives.  Conscious, 
apparently,  of  the  ineffectiveness  of  his  attempt,  he 
returned  in  1897  to  the  same  story  of  Red  Hugh's 
escape  from  Dublin  Castle,  and  in  The  Flight  of  the 
Eagle  gave  to  Irish  literature  one  of  its  most  spirited 
and  beautifully  written  romances.  Here  the  skele- 
ton of  history  is  concealed  by  a  vesture  of  fine  prose, 
the  spoils  of  the  Record  Office  no  longer  obtrude 
themselves,  but  are  discreetly  added  for  reference 
in  an  appendix,  and  the  whole  episode  is  welded  into 
a  harmonious  narrative.  The  episode  of  Red  Hugh's 
capture  and  flight  is  the  most  famous  and  significant 
of  the  dramas  enacted  in  Elizabethan  Ireland,  mark- 
ing, as  it  did,  the  beginning  of  the  Nine  Years'  War 
which  proved  to  be  the  greatest  obstacle  to  the  estab- 
lishment of  English  rule,  and  might  have  changed 
the  destiny  of  the  Irish  people.  The  Flight  of  the 
Eagle  is  a  fascinating  picture  of  the  social  and  politi- 
cal life  of  the  time,  and  is  probably  the  only  work 
at  all  worthy  of  the  picturesque  and  daring  young 
rebel  whose  story  is  related.  Its  many  beautiful 
passages  entitle  it  to  rank  with  the  Bardic  History. 
The  magnified  apostrophe  of  Lough  Liath  towards 
the  end,  when  the  young  hero's  successful  flight  has 


So   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

brought  him  safe  to  his  mountain  home,  is  justly 
celebrated.  This  lonely  lake,  high  upon  the  moun- 
tain-top of  Slieve  Gullion,  is  identified  with  the 
greatest  periods  of  Gaelic  history,  with  the  druidic 
mysteries  of  earliest  antiquity,  with  Finn,  Cuculain 
and  all  the  heroic  mythological  figures  of  Irish 
legend.  In  an  eloquent  rhapsody  O'Grady  evokes 
the  great  deeds  and  personages  grouped  around  this 
cradle  and  keystone  of  Celtic  Ireland,  and  closes  his 
narrative  with  the  picture  of  Red  Hugh  O'Donnell 
at  the  foot  of  this  historic  mountain,  the  last  cham- 
pion of  the  old  ideals  with  which  Lough  Liath  is 
inseparably  and  so  intimately  connected. 

If  The  Flight  of  the  Eagle  represents  such  an  ad- 
vance upon  Red  Hugh's  Captivity,  and  is  the  finest 
work  O'Grady  has  done  outside  of  the  heroic  period, 
it  is  doubtless  because  the  years  intervening  between 
the  two  had  seen  the  publication  of  almost  all  his 
work  in  the  field  of  historic  romance.  The  charm- 
ing volume  of  Elizabethan  stories,  The  Bog  of  Stars, 
in  1893  enabled  him  to  add  to  his  saga  of  Red  Hugh 
by  the  addition  of  incidents  in  the  life  of  the  hero 
and  his  associates,  not  directly  part  of  the  events 
with  which  the  two  main  narratives  are  concerned. 
At  the  same  time  he  extended  the  scope  of  his  his- 
toric reconstructions  by  the  elaboration  of  various 
important  phases  of  the  struggle  against  the  Tudor 
dynasty.  The  appearance  of  Ulrick  the  Ready  in 
1896  marked  the  last  stage  of  his  advance  in  the  art 
of  narration.  The  manner  in  which  he  handles  his 
historical  material  has  lost  all  the  clumsiness  of  his 
first  effort  at  long  narrative,  the  odour  of  the 
archives  no  longer  hangs  about  his  pages,  and  the 
ease  and  fluency  of  the  story  indicates  a  complete 
mastery  of  detail.  Indeed  he  is  now  threatened 
with  the  dangers  of  this  facility  and  succumbs  to 


SOURCES  51 

the  extent  of  writing  In  the  Wake  of  King  James. 
Here  he  reveals  all  the  faults  of  a  certain  type  of 
popular  pseudo-historical  novel,  in  which  an~  his- 
torical setting  is  exploited  as  a  pretext  for  the  telling 
of  some  banal  tale  of  love  and  adventure.  Fortu- 
nately, instead  of  continuing  in  this  direction 
O'Grady  bethought  himself  of  his  first  work,  and 
returned  to  the  half-accomplished  task  of  Red 
Hugh's  Captivity  with  the  fortunate  results  already 
described. 

In  considering  the  group  of  stories  based  upon 
bardic  literature  little  can  be  added  to  what  has  been 
said  of  the  history  of  the  heroic  period.  With  the 
exception  of  Finn  and  His  Companions  (1892),  a  sim- 
ple retelling  of  some  of,  the  principal  incidents  of 
the  Ossianic  cycle  addressed  to  children,  the  remain- 
ing works  are  adaptations  from  the  histories.  The 
Coming  of  Cuculain  was  published  in  1894,  and  con- 
sisted almost  entirely  of  a  literal  transcription  of  the 
earlier  chapter  relating  to  the  childhood  and  youth 
of  Cuculain,  in  the  first  volume  of  the  History  of 
Ireland.  At  that  date,  as  we  have  seen,  O'Grady 
was  practising  his  skill  as  a  novelist,  and  this  book 
may  be  regarded  as  an  exercise,  for  he  has  taken  his 
earlier  material  and  elaborated  and  rearranged  it 
to  form  a  continuous  narrative.  Some  years  later, 
in  1901,  he  remodelled  similarly  the  concluding 
chapters  of  the  same  volume,  and  In  the  Gates  of  the 
North  presented  the  story  of  Cuculain's  manhood, 
concluding  with  the  hero's  splendid  defence  of 
Ulster,  single-handed,  against  the  champions  of 
Maeve.  These  accounts  of  Cuculain  thus  pre- 
sented in  the  form  of  historic  romance  lose  nothing 
in  the  process,  and  are,  therefore,  significant  as  indi- 
cating the  essentially  imaginative,  romantic  quality 
of  O'Grady's  mind.  In  this  form,  moreover,  they 


52   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

must  have  reached  a  public  not  likely  to  be  attracted 
to  a  work  ostensibly  of  pure  history,  and  conse- 
quently they  have  helped  materially  to  attain  the 
chief  end  their  author  had  in  view:  to  rehabilitate 
the  bardic  literature  of  Ireland  and  to  place  the 
Irish  people  in  possession  of  their  lost  national 
heritage. 

It  is,  however,  as  an  historian  that  Standish 
O'Grady  exercised  the  greatest  influence  upon  the 
Literary  Revival.  With  a  fine  sense  of  what  was 
needed  to  give  nerve  and  backbone  to  Irish  literature 
he  turned  in  succession  to  the  two  epochs  in  the  his- 
tory of  Ireland  when  the  national  spirit  was  most 
strongly  and  truly  defined;  the  heroic  age,  when  the 
Celtic  soul  had  reached  its  plenitude,  the  Eliza- 
bethan age,  when  the  last  sunset  glow  of  the  old 
ideals  flared  up  to  show  the  final  rally  and  dispersion 
of  Gaelic  civilisation.  His  History  of  Ireland  offends 
against  most  of  the  accepted  canons  of  historical 
writing,  his  novels  are  marred  by  faults  of  construc- 
tion at  which  the  most  commonplace  "circulationist" 
would  smile,  but  all  these  faults  are  redeemed  by  the 
inner  quality  which  they  derive  from  burning  ideal- 
ism and  epic  grandeur  of  the  mind  that  conceived 
these  works.  The  Bardic  History,  in  particular, 
was  a  veritable  revelation.  Here  at  last  was  heard 
the  authentic  voice  of  pagan  and  heroic  Ireland;  in 
the  story  of  Cuculain,  modern  Irish  literature  had 
at  length  found  its  epic.  How  pale  is  Ferguson's 
Congal  beside  this  glowing  prose,  where  poetry 
springs  from  the  very  power  and  beauty  of  the 
imagination  as  it  conceives  the  life  and  struggles  of 
the  divine  being.  With  his  proud  affirmations  of 
belief  in  the  ancient  deities,  and  his  wonderful  evo- 
cation of  the  past,  Standish  O'Grady  revealed  to  his 
countrymen  the  splendour  of  their  own  idealism, 


SOURCES  53 

and  restored  to  them  their  truly  national  tradition. 
All  eyes  were  now  turned  towards  the  shining  land 
of  heroic  story  and  legend,  the  footsteps  of  all  were 
directed  upon  the  path  which  led  back  to  the  sources 
of  Irish  nationality. 

There  is  not  an  important  writer  of  the  Revival 
but  has  acknowledged  his  debt  to  Standish  O'Grady, 
more  particularly  the  generation  just  springing  up 
when  his  best  work  appeared.  A.  E.,  whose  mind 
and  work  are  perhaps  most  akin  to  his,  shows  con- 
tinual traces  of  O'Grady's  influence,  and  has  re- 
peatedly testified  to  the  importance  of  the  Bardic 
History;  Todhunter's  Three  Bardic  Tales  are  the 
direct  result  of  the  contact  thus  afforded  with  Irish 
legend,  while  W.  B.  Yeats  has  directly  and  indirectly 
admitted  his  obligation  to  the  same  source.  It  was 
further  given  to  O'Grady  to  foster  the  growth  of 
Irish  literature  both  as  a  publisher  and  an  editor. 
He  founded  in  1900,  and  conducted  for  some  six 
years,  The  All  Ireland  Review,  which  was,  at  the  time, 
the  only  journal  in  Ireland  devoted  to  letters.  This 
periodical  became  in  due  course  a  real  centre  of 
culture  and  ideas,  and  was  the  soil  from  which  some 
of  the  best  fruits  of  the  Literary  Revival  sprang. 

It  was  not  the  least  of  his  achievements  that,  as  a 
publisher,  O'Grady  was  responsible  for  the  appear- 
ance of  a  volume  of  essays  unique  in  the  history  of 
the  Revival,  Pebbles  from  a  Brook,  the  best  work  of 
John  Eglinton,  that  subtle  essayist  who  alone  up- 
holds the  traditions  of  this  genre  in  contemporary 
Irish  literature.  Historian,  dramatist,  novelist,  edi- 
tor, publisher,  poet  and  even  economist,  Standish 
O'Grady  was,  above  all,  and  always,  an  idealist, 
and  in  every  phase  of  his  activities  he  has  never 
failed  to  champion  the  great  ideals  which  first  at- 
tracted him  to  the  noblest  period  in  the  story  of  his 


54   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

race.  As  a  personality  he  has  exerted  a  profound 
influence  upon  the  literary  generation  whose  ardour 
he  had  already  kindled  by  his  re-creation  of  heroic 
Ireland.  As  he  was  the  first  to  reveal  a  truly  noble 
tradition,  it  was  fitting  that  he  should  create,  and 
for  a  time  watch  over,  the  medium  through  which  so 
much  was  expressed  that  was  the  direct  outcome  of 
his  own  teaching  and  example,  and  that  he  should 
finally  become  sponsor  for  some  of  the  children  of 
his  own  literary  offspring.  It  is  with  a  peculiar 
sense  of  appropriateness,  therefore,  that  we  may 
salute  in  Standish  James  O'Grady  the  father  of  the 
Literary  Revival  in  Ireland. 


CHAPTER  III 
SOURCES 

THE    TRANSLATORS:     GEORGE    SIGERSON.    DOUGLAS 

HYDE 

WHILE  Standish  O'Grady  revealed  the 
wonders  of  Irish  bardic  literature,  and 
sent  the  poets  to  the  heroic  age  for  the 
themes  of  a  new  song  more  truly  expres- 
sive of  the  national  spirit,  it  was  left  to  others  to 
explore  fields  hardly  less  rich  in  unexploited  treasures 
of  the  Celtic  imagination.  The  Literary  Revival  has 
been  characterised,  not  only  by  the  resuscitation  of 
the  great  historical  figures  and  events  of  Irish  an- 
tiquity, but  also  by  the  restoration  to  letters  of  the 
beautiful  songs  and  stories  of  folk-lore,  which  were 
being  rapidly  obliterated  by  the  increasing  Anglicisa- 
tion  of  the  countryside.  The  work  of  the  transla- 
tors and  folklorists  who  collected,  transcribed  and 
translated  these  folk  tales  and  songs,  in  which  the 
old  Celtic  traditions  still  lived,  was  an  important 
element  in  the  forces  that  went  to  the  formation  of 
modern  Anglo-Irish  literature.  It  is  true,  how- 
ever, that  this  work  did  not  give  so  direct  an  impulse 
to  the  literary  renascence  as  that  of  Standish  James 
O'Grady,  and  belongs  more  properly  to  the  history 
of  the  Gaelic  movement,  which  has  done  so  much  to 
preserve  the  Irish  language,  literature  and  customs. 
Nevertheless,  certain  of  these  writers  have  exercised 
a  greater  influence  upon  Anglo-Irish  letters  than 

55 


56   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

others,  an  influence  beyond  that  which  might  be 
expected  from  mere  translation,  and  cannot,  there- 
fore, be  omitted  from  a  consideration  of  the  Literary 
Revival.  Moreover,  as  the  language  movement  was 
coincident  with  the  Revival,  and  has  undoubtedly 
strengthened  it,  the  interaction  of  the  two  may  best 
be  studied  in  those  writers  who  belonged  to  both, 
while  primarily  concerned  with  the  restoration  of 
Gaelic. 

In  the  field  of  translation  George  Sigerson  may  be 
said  to  occupy  a  position  somewhat  similar  to  that  of 
Standish  O'Grady  in  the  history  of  Anglo-Irish  lit- 
erature proper,  and  to  share  the  honours  with  him 
as  doyen  of  the  Revival.  Born  in  1839,  he  is  not  only 
O'Grady's  senior  in  years,  but  as  a  poet  he  had 
become  known  some  twenty  years  before  the  Bardic 
History  was  published.  As  far  back  as  1855  he  was 
a  contributor  to  The  Harp,  and  much  of  his  early 
verse  appeared  in  Davis'  paper,  The  Nation,  during 
the  last  phase  of  its  existence.  Under  the  pseu- 
donym "Erionnach,"  Sigerson  was  familiar  to  read- 
ers of  Irish  periodicals,  but  excellent  as  is  much  of 
his  original  verse,  it  has  never  been  collected,  and  is 
only  accessible  in  the  various  anthologies,  of  which 
there  is  rather  an  unfortunate  profusion  in  Ireland. 
Apart  from  his  activities  on  behalf  of  the  National 
Literary  Society,  which  we  shall  notice  later,  his 
influence  has  been  strongest  as  a  translator  of  the 
old  Gaelic  poets,  and  it  is  upon  his  achievement  in 
this  direction  that  his  claim  to  distinction  must  rest. 

Sigerson's  first  permanent  contribution  to  litera- 
ture was  the  publication,  in  1860,  of  the  second  part 
of  the  Poets  and  Poetry  of  Munster,  the  first  series  of 
which  had  been  contributed  by  Mangan,  and  was 
published  posthumously  in  1850.  Thus,  by  an  inter- 
esting coincidence,  George  Sigerson  serves  as  a  living 


SOURCES  57 

link  between  the  precursors  of  the  Revival  and  its 
initiators,  joining  up  the  age  of  Mangan  and  Fer- 
guson with  that  of  the  new  literature  whose  seed 
was  germinating  in  their  work.  The  Poets  and 
Poetry  of  Munster,  which  contained  the  text  of  about 
fifty  very  beautiful  Irish  poems,  with  those  metrical 
translations  which  were  to  become  the  special  study 
of  the  author,  was  the  first  effective  contribution  to 
the  Gaelic  movement.  It  marks  the  beginning  of 
the  Celtic  Revival  which  subsequently  made  such 
headway  under  the  leadership  of  Douglas  Hyde. 
Indeed,  the  later  vigour  to  which  the  language 
movement  attained  would  certainly  have  been  re- 
tarded, if  not  rendered  absolutely  impossible,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  work  of  Sigerson  and  of  John 
O'Daly,  the  editor  of  both  series  of  Munster  Poets. 
For  many  years  these  two  fought  alone  against  the 
indifference  of  the  public  towards  Gaelic  literature, 
the  repository  of  Irish  nationality. 

The  justification  of  their  faith,  and  the  measure 
of  their  success,  were  demonstrated  by  the  very  dif- 
ferent conditions  in  which  Sigerson  presented  his 
second  work  dealing  with  the  poets  and  poetry  of 
ancient  Ireland.  When  Bards  of  the  Gael  and  Gall 
appeared,  in  1897,  it  was  not  the  offering  of  an 
enthusiastic  young  student  to  an  apathetic  public, 
but  the  contribution  of  a  ripe  scholar  to  a  subject 
for  which  an  appreciative  audience  had  in  the  mean- 
time developed.  The  National  Literary  Society  in 
Dublin  and  the  Irish  Literary  Society  in  London 
had  come  into  being,  and  it  was  as  President  of  the 
former  that  Sigerson  was  able  to  dedicate  the  volume 
to  Gavan  Duffy,  the  President  of  the  sister  society, 
and  to  Douglas  Hyde,  the  President,^  of  the  Gaelic 
League.  This  dedication  is,  so  to  speak,  a  synthesis 
of  the  various  activities  of  literary  Ireland  since  the 


58    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

publication  of  the  second  series  of  Poets  and  Poetry  of 
Munster.  It  is  a  sign-post  whereon  are  inscribed 
the  names  which  point  out  the  two  directions  taken 
by  the  national  current  in  literature.  On  the  one 
hand  are  evoked  the  struggles  of  those  who  strove 
to  restore  the  language  and  letters  of  the  Gael,  and 
on  the  other,  the  crystallisation  of  the  efforts  to 
create  a  national  literature  in  English  by  the  absorp- 
tion and  remoulding  of  the  Gaelic  material. 

Bards  of  the  Gael  and  Gall  was  addressed  to  both 
the  Gaelic  and  the  Anglo-Irish  sections  by  the  dual 
nature  of  its  appeal.  To  the  one  it  offered  the  inter- 
est of  its  extraordinarily  faithful,  and  metrically 
skilful,  renderings  of  the  original  texts;  to  the 
other  it  presented  an  imposing  anthology  of  Irish 
poetic  literature,  enhanced  by  a  scholarly  history  of 
Gaelic  verse  and  a  vindication  of  the  greatness  of 
Celtic  culture.  Dispensing  with  the  original  texts, 
which  had  become  more  accessible  since  the  days 
when  he  translated  the  Munster  poets,  Sigerson  was 
able  to  bring  together  eight  times  as  many  poems  as 
in  his  first  collection.  These  range  from  earliest  lays 
of  the  Milesian  invaders  to  folk-songs  of  the  eight- 
eenth century,  and  extend  over  a  period  of  some 
two  thousand  years.  All  the  great  epochs  of  Irish 
history  are  represented,  the  age  of  Cuculain,  the  age 
of  Finn,  the  age  of  Ossian,  the  dawn  of  Christianity 
and  the  Gaelic-Norse  period,  the  whole  constituting 
an  almost  unparalleled  poetic  lineage,  which  could 
not  but  strengthen  the  growing  sense  of  Irish  na- 
tionality in  literature.  With  such  an  ancestry,  the 
poets  were  emboldened  to  proclaim  themselves  as 
voicing  something  more  than  a  mere  province  of 
England.  The  material  of  Gaelic  literature  and 
history  had  been  released  by  the  magic  touch  of 
O'Grady;  Sigerson,  Hyde  and  others  were  kindling 


SOURCES  59 

the  torch  of  Gaelic  civilisation,  and  had  drawn  to 
the  service  of  the  Irish  language  many  of  the  younger 
writers.  A  literature  was  in  the  process  of  for=- 
mation,  which  attached  itself  directly  to  the  original 
stem  of  national  culture.  This  new  branch,  though 
its  outer  covering  was  of  a  different  texture  from 
the  parent  tree,  derived  its  sap  from  the  same  roots. 
The  spirit  was  Celtic,  if  the  form  was  English.  Even 
the  form,  however,  has  inevitably  taken  on  some- 
thing of  the  colour  of  its  environment.  Thus,  while 
in  Ireland  some  critics  have  questioned  the  possibility 
of  an  Irish  literature  in  the  English  language,  in 
England  the  contrary  criticism  has  been  raised.  So 
successfully  have  Irish  writers  adopted  English  to 
the  expression  of  national  characteristics,  so  deeply 
have  they  marked  it  with  the  Gaelic  imprint,  that 
they  have  been  accused  of  deforming  the  English 
language. 

Such  critics  will  find  nothing  to  reassure  them  in 
Bards  of  the  Gael  and  Gall.  At  a  first  glance  they 
might,  perhaps,  be  misled  into  believing  that  the 
book  contained  nothing  dangerous  to  the  integrity 
of  English.  They  will  not  find  any  words,  phrases 
or  turns  of  speech  of  an  emphatically  Gaelic  complex- 
ion, none  of  these  flamboyant,  exotic  passages  with 
which  Synge,  particularly,  startled  the  unaccustomed 
ear.  Nevertheless  Sigerson  is,  in  their  sense,  a  more 
serious  source  of  danger  than  most  of  his  successors. 
His  metrical  translations  are,  in  fact,  a  unique  in- 
stance of  the  adaptation  of  a  foreign  language  to 
the  needs  of  the  user.  It  is  not  very  difficult  for  an 
Irish  poet  to  catch  the  spirit  of  a  Gaelic  text;  so  far 
we  have  seen  that  it  was  done  to  a  varying  extent 
both  by  Ferguson  and  Mangan.  Sigerson,  however, 
succeeds  in  achieving  the  far  more  difficult  feat  of 
rendering  the  music  of  the  original,  in  addition  to  its 


60   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

spirit.  The  popular  heptasyllabic  measure  of  Gaelic 
poetry  is  essentially  alien  to  the  nature  of  English, 
which  falls  more  readily  into  line  of  eight  syllables. 
With  few  exceptions  Sigerson's  versions  successfully 
reproduce  this  measure,  whenever  the  text  so  re- 
quires. The  perfection  and  diversity  of  the  Gaelic 
verse  forms  precluded  their  illustration  in  every 
case,  but  the  volume  contains  many  examples  of  this 
elaborate  verse  structure,  with  its  internal  rhymes 
and  alliterations,  its  consonant  and  assonant  rhymes. 
This  complicated  technique  is  abundantly  displayed 
in  the  course  of  translation,  and  testifies  to  the  age 
and  development  of  Gaelic  culture. 

In  this  connection  reference  must  be  made  to  the 
Introduction,  which  displays  Sigerson's  mastery  of 
his  subject  and  his  wide  scholarship,  and,  being  in 
the  form  of  a  commentary,  adds  so  much  to  the  value 
and  interest  of  his  work.  He  discusses,  for  example, 
the  claim  of  Irish  literature  to  have  created  a  system 
of  versification  absolutely  different  from  that  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  and  is  able  to  illustrate  his  thesis 
by  the  first  poem  of  the  anthology,  the  extremely 
ancient  incantation  of  the  Druid-poet  Amergin. 
The  translation  brings  out  exactly  the  rhyme  of  the 
text,  which  demonstrates  the  existence  of  rhyming 
verse  in  Ireland  at  a  time  when  such  forms  were,  so 
far  as  we  know,  undreamt  of  in  other  countries. 
Then  follows  the  Triumph  Song  of  Amergin,  which 
appears  to  be  an  early  instance  of  blank-verse,  whose 
invention  must  also  be  ascribed  to  the  Gaelic  genius. 
The  poems  representing  the  Cuculain  period  deal 
entirely  with  those  incidents  and  stories  whose 
beauty  and  significance  had  been  revealed  by  the 
sympathetic  imagination  of  Standish  O'Grady. 
Deirdre's  Lament  for  the  Sons  of  Usnach,  the  relations 
of  Cuculain  and  Ferdial,  and  other  features  of  the 


SOURCES  61 

Red  Branch  History  had  become  part  of  the  mate- 
rial of  a  new  generation  of  poets,  since  the  publication 
of  the  Bardic  History.  It  is  interesting,  therefore, 
to  study  in  Sigerson's  versions  the  technique  of  the 
contemporary  poetry  relating  to  this  subject. 
O'Grady  had  given  the  content  and  the  spirit  of 
bardic  literature,  it  remained  for  Sigerson  to  analyse 
its  form,  and  reproduce  its  structural  characteristics. 
In  Cuculain's  Lament  for  Ferdial  for  example,  we 
see  how  the  bards  employed  the  burthen,  a  form  which 
only  came  into  English  verse  at  a  late  date.  Simi- 
larly with  many  other  metrical  inventions  generally 
believed  to  be  of  comparatively  recent  origin. 
These  admirable  translations  reproduce  the  numer- 
ous metrical  characteristics  of  Gaelic  literature, 
whose  diversity  indicates  how  highly  developed  was 
the  art  of  versification  in  ancient  Ireland. 

Bards  of  the  Gael  and  Gall,  while  emphasising  the 
technical  achievement  of  Irish  poetry,  does  not 
sacrifice  the  poetic  substance  to  the  metric  shadow. 
When  the  bards  had  obtained  such  command  over 
the  instruments  of  their  craft,  they  were  necessarily 
tempted  at  times  to  indulge  in  soulless  exercises  in 
technique,  the  metrical  gymnastics  which  we  asso- 
ciate with  the  poetry  of  the  Precieux  and  the  fash- 
ionable ruelles  of  seventeenth-century  Paris.  Some 
of  the  effects  cited  by  Sigerson  remind  us  of  the 
pointes  and  concetti  beloved  of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet, 
but  as  a  rule  he  concerns  himself  only  with  such 
forms  as  were  destined  to  be  permanent  factors  in 
the  development  of  European  poetry.  At  the  same 
time  he  traces  the  growth  of  those  traits  which  have 
since  been  identified  so  completely  with  Celtic 
verse.  From  Amergin's  Chant  to  the  present  day, 
the  same  feeling  for  nature,  with  its  underlying  sug- 
gestion of  pantheistic  sympathy,  is  noticeable,  and 


62    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

this  unity  of  sentiment  is  rightly  emphasised  and 
illustrated  in  the  comprehensive  sweep  of  Sigerson's 
anthology. 

Interesting,  too,  is  the  manner  in  which  he  ex- 
plains the  origin  of  the  melancholy  that  pervades 
Irish  poetry,  and  has  so  long  been  accepted  as  its 
dominant  characteristic.  In  the  dirges  of  Oisin 
lamenting  the  death  of  the  Fianna  we  hear  for  the 
first  time  the  note  of  "Celtic  sadness"  of  which  so 
much  has  been  written.  Oisin,  the  last  of  the  great 
pagans,  mourns  the  departure  of  his  companions, 
and  the  disappearance  of  all  they  stood  for,  in  the 
rising  influence  of  Christianity.  The  dialogues  of 
Oisin  and  Patrick  remain  as  the  expression  of  the 
eternal  conflict  between  the  heroic  and  the  Christian 
ideal.  If  the  mournful  note  was  first  heard  in  the 
lamentation  of  paganism  when  displaced  by  asceti- 
cism, it  is  to  the  same  cause  that  we  must  ascribe 
the  prevalence  of  a  certain  tone  of  sadness  in  more 
recent  times.  The  most  distinguished  of  the  modern 
Irish  poets  have  all  been  on  the  side  of  Oisin,  they 
have  made  the  same  protest,  and  their  work  is 
tinged  by  regret  for  the  joylessness  of  an  age  unfit 
to  be  compared  with  the  great  age  of  which  the 
bards  sang.  They  have  been  transported  by  the 
force  of  imagination  and  sympathy  to  this  heroic 
world  peopled  with  the  noble  figures  and  lordly 
ideals  of  Celtic  civilisation.  Filled  with  the  beauties 
of  this  dream-world,  once  a  reality,  their  minds  dwell 
in  sadness  upon  the  altered  destiny  of  the  race, 
whom  they  ceaselessly  exhort  to  return  to  the  path 
which  will  lead,  as  of  old,  to  the  unfolding  of  the 
perfect  flower  of  national  and  spiritual  greatness. 

From  the  fifth  to  the  ninth  century  Ireland  was 
the  guardian  of  European  civilisation,  fostering  the 
arts,  and  sending  teachers  to  all  parts  of  the  Conti- 


SOURCES  63 

nent.  Sigerson's  work  in  Bards  of  the  Gael  and  Gall 
possesses,  therefore,  an  interest  extending  far  be- 
yond his  immediate  hearers.  Those  who  have  studied 
European  literatures  may  learn  through  his  exact 
versions  from  the  Gaelic  the  precise  nature  of  the 
debt  of  other  nations  to  Irish  culture.  He  shows 
how  the  verse  forms  of  Gaelic  filtered  through  to  the 
Continent,  as  a  result  of  their  introduction  into  the 
Latin  hymns  and  the  Carmen  Paschale  of  Sedulius, 
the  first  great  Christian  epic.  The  early  saints 
whose  hymns,  for  all  their  Latin,  betrayed  the 
Gaelic  influence  in  the  vowel  end-rhymes,  and  sys- 
tematic alliteration,  were  the  disseminators  of  a  new 
literary  tradition,  a  system  of  versification  entirely 
independent  of  Greek  and  Roman  influences.  While 
many  of  the  Gaelic  verse-forms  proved  immediately 
adaptable  to  the  exigencies  of  the  Latin  language, 
and  in  due  course  to  its  derivatives,  others  have 
always  remained  the  peculiar  possession  of  the 
tongue  in  which  they  were  originally  conceived. 
Few  poets  in  English  have  habitually  exercised  all 
the  forms  that  Sigerson  has  used  in  the  illustration 
of  his  text.  The  diversity  of  these,  however,  shows 
how  far  an  Irish  writer  can  succeed  in  expressing 
native  forms  in  a  foreign  language.  At  the  same 
time,  they  afford  an  explanation  of  the  metrical 
characteristics  and  peculiarities  of  all  Anglo-Irish 
poetry.  The  love  of  recurrent  and  interwoven 
vowel  sounds,  and  the  assonances  of  the  modern 
poets,  are  simply  the  survival  in  the  English-speaking 
Irishman  of  the  verse  traditions  of  his  race.  In 
Bards  of  the  Gael  and  Gall,  George  Sigerson  has  com- 
bined an  anthology  wkich,  while  substantiating  the 
claim  of  Ancient  Ireland  to  be  the  "Mother  of  Lit- 
eratures," vindicates,  above  all,  the  right  of  her 
own  sons  to  turn  to  her  for  their  literary  education. 


64   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Other  nations  have  at  one  time  regarded  Ireland  as 
their  teacher,  and  preserve  in  their  literature  some 
of  the  fruits  of  her  instruction.  All  the  more,  there- 
fore, may  we  expect  to  find  the  Irish  nation  cherish- 
ing her  teaching,  imitating  her  models,  and  striving 
to  produce  a  literature  -in  harmony  with  the  great 
traditions  she  created. 


DOUGLAS    HYDE 

It  will  be  the  duty  of  the  historian  of  the  Gaelic 
Movement  in  Ireland  to  render  justice  to  the  achieve- 
ment of  Douglas  Hyde,  whose  life  has  been  devoted 
to  the  restoration  of  the  .Gaelic  language  and  liter- 
ature. In  a  study  of  the  Literary  Revival,  con- 
cerning itself  solely  with  Anglo-Irish  literature,  there 
can  be  no  question  of  even  attempting  to  give  ade- 
quate consideration  to  his  work.  In  a  sense,  Hyde 
represents  a  tendency  opposed  in  principle,  if  not  in 
fact,  to  the  creation  of  a  national  literature  in  the 
English  language.  In  a  famous  lecture  delivered  to 
the  Irish  National  Literary  Society  in  Dublin, 
shortly  after  its  foundation,  he  pleaded  for  "the 
necessity  of  de-Anglicising  Ireland,"  and  his  con- 
stant purpose  has  been  to  effect  the  object  which  he 
defined  on  that  occasion.  He  has  been  the  organiser 
of  a  vast  propaganda  on  behalf  of  all  that  is  Irish, 
music,  literature,  games  and  customs  of  every  kind. 
He  was  careful  in  1892  to  explain  that  work  of  de- 
Anglicisation  was  not  "a  protest  against  imitating 
what  is  best  in  the  English  people,"  but  was  "to 
show  the  folly  of  neglecting  what  is  Irish,  and 
hastening  to  adopt,  pell-mell,  and  indiscriminately, 
everything  that  is  English,  simply  because  it  is 
English."  Since  then,  however,  his  more  enthusi- 
astic disciples  have  swept  away  these  limits,  and 


SOURCES  65 

have  championed  everything  that  is  Irish,  simply 
because  it  is  Irish.  Consequently,  they  incline  to 
view  with  suspicion  the  growth  of  Anglo-Irish  litera- 
ture, on  the  ground  that  it  is  written  in  an  alien 
language,  and  has,  in  some  cases,  been  primarily 
addressed  to  the  British,  rather  than  the  Irish 
public.  Language,  it  is  argued,  is  the  sign  and 
symbol  of  nationality,  and  there  can  be  no  literature 
expressive  of  Irish  nationality  which  is  not  composed 
in  the  Irish  language. 

Whether  Hyde  himself  is  entirely  in  agreement 
with  this  application  of  his  teaching,  it  is  impossible 
to  say.  If  we  may  accept  the  statements  of  com- 
petent critics,  his  best  work,  plays,  poems,  and  fairy 
tales,  has  been  in  Gaelic,  while  such  of  it  as  has  been 
conceived  in  English  is  devoted  to  the  history  and 
vindication  of  the  claims  of  Gaelic  literature.  Ex- 
ception must  be  made  of  the  three  original  poems 
published  in  1895,  together  with  some  verse  transla- 
tions, under  the  title  The  Three  Sorrows  of  Story- 
telling. The  first  of  these,  Deirdre,  was  a  prize  poem, 
which  obtained  the  Vice-Chancellor's  prize  in  Dub- 
lin University,  and  possesses  all  the  merits  and  de- 
fects peculiar  to  that  order  of  composition.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  the  other  two  stories,  The 
Children  of  Lir,  and  The  Fate  of  the  Children  of 
Tuireann,  which  were  written  about  the  same  time. 
Perhaps  the  most  significant  feature  of  Deirdre 
is  that  a  poem  upon  an  essentially  Irish  theme 
should  have  been  presented  and  found  favour 
in  a  University  which,  at  that  time,  was  definitely 
hostile  to  de-Anglicised  Ireland  and,  in  the  person 
of  two  of  its  most  distinguished  professors,  had 
publicly  expressed  its  contempt  for  the  ancient 
literature  of  the  country.  In  the  same  year,  how- 
ever, Hyde  published  his  Story  of  Gaelic  Literature, 


66   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

an  admirable  sketch,  which  was  elaborated  and  ulti- 
mately appeared  in  1899  as  The  Literary  History  of 
Ireland.  This  is  Hyde's  most  important  original 
work  in  English.  For  the  first  time  a  connected 
and  adequate  survey  had  been  made  of  literary 
evolution  of  Gaelic  Ireland.  Hitherto  Gaelic  litera- 
ture had  only  secured  a  few  incidental  pages  or 
chapters  in  the  works  of  such  Irish  antiquarians  as 
O'Curry,  for  the  necessarily  rough  and  imperfect 
catalogues  of  Bishop  Nicholson  in  the  early  part 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  of  Edward  O'Reilly 
at  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth,  can  hardly  be 
described  as  histories  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term. 
Hyde's  book  was  the  first  of  its  kind  and,  apart 
from  its  value  to  the  student  of  Gaelic  literature, 
was  a  fine  piece  of  propaganda.  With  such  a  demon- 
stration of  the  diversity  and  importance  of  the  old 
literature,  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  dismiss  the 
claims  of  the  Language  Movement.  Hyde  answered, 
once  and  for  all,  the  objection  of  his  more  educated 
opponents  that  the  Irish  language  did  not  repay 
study  because  it  had  no  literature.  The  Literary 
History  of  Ireland  placed  within  the  reach  of  the 
general  public  the  facts  which  had  previously  been 
vaguely  admitted,  or  denied  from  hearsay.  After 
its  publication  very  little  was  heard  about  the  "bar- 
barians" who  were  supposed  to  have  constituted 
Gaelic  Ireland,  and  whose  literature  was  alleged  to 
be  disgusting  or  negligible. 

Against  the  specific  claim  of  many  of  Hyde's 
adherents,  that  Anglo-Irish  literature  is  a  con- 
tradiction in  terms,  we  may' set  the  fact  that  their 
leader  was  one  of  the  early  vice-presidents  of  the 
National  Literary  Society,  which  he  worked  so  hard, 
with  many  others,  to  found,  and  that  neither  this 
Society  nor  the  Irish  Literary  Society  in  London, 


SOURCES  67 

was  created  solely  with  a  view  to  fostering  Gaelic 
literature.  At  the  same  time,  it  must  be  admitted, 
the  principle  of  the  Language  Movement  certainly 
seems  to  authorise  the  conclusions  which  enthusiasts 
have  drawn  from  it.  If  language  be  accepted  as  the 
criterion  of  nationality,  then  the  Literary  Revival 
is  condemned  as  un-national,  and  Anglo-Irish  litera- 
ture becomes  simply  a  phase  of  English  literature. 
This  view  represents  the  point  at  which  two  extremes 
of  criticism  meet.  The  English  critics  who  refuse 
to  admit  the  claim  of  Anglo-Irish  literature  to  speak 
for  a  distinct  and  separate  tradition  from  that  of 
England,  and  the  Irish  critics  who  are  so  possessed 
by  a  sense  of  nationality  that  they  cannot  allow 
their  English-speaking  countrymen  to  come  forward 
as  representing  the  national  spirit.  On  both  sides 
there  is  an  over-emphasis  of  the  importance  of  the 
English  language,  as  if  that  were  the  determining 
factor.  But  those  who  persist  in  regarding  literary 
Ireland  as  a  province  of  England  are  no  less  mis- 
taken than  those  who  believe  that  Ireland  loses  her 
identity  once  she  accepts  the  English  language. 
The  striking  difference  between  the  Anglo-Irish 
literature  of  the  Revival,  and  the  Anglicised  Irish 
literature  which  has  always  existed  outside  it,  is 
sufficient  proof  that  both  views  are  mistaken.  Ire- 
land has  produced  writers  whose  work  reveals  noth- 
ing of  their  country  but  a  certain  note  of  pro- 
vinciality; they  have  been  simply  imitators  of  Eng- 
land. She  has  also  given  to  English  literature 
writers  like  Burke  and  Swift  who  have  been  lost  to 
Ireland,  who  have  been  no  more  hers  than  have  any 
of  the  great  names  in  the  literary  history  of  England. 
In  neither  case  is  there  any  justification  for  the  gen- 
eralisations of  the  two  classes  of  critics  already 
mentioned. 


68    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

So  long  as  Irish  legends  and  stories,  traditions  and 
customs  are  cherished,  so  long  will  the  feeling  of 
nationality  endure.  It  was  precisely  the  desire  to 
rescue  and  preserve  these  things  which  gave  birth 
to  the  Revival.  It  is,  therefore,  absurd  to  pretend 
that  the  new  literature,  which  has  done  so  much  in 
this  direction,  is  not  national.  It  is,  however, 
equally  true  that  the  Gaelic  Movement,  which  has 
coincided  to  a  great  extent  with  the  Revival,  has 
played  a  very  important  part  in  the  development  of 
Anglo-Irish  literature.  Many  of  the  younger  poets 
have  been  drawn  into  the  Language  Movement, 
while  those  who  have  not  directly  participated,  have 
been  indirectly  influenced  by  it.  The  general  im- 
pulse towards  Irish  sources  has  been  greatly  strength- 
ened by  the  propaganda  of  Douglas  Hyde  and  the 
Gaelic  League,  of  which  he  is  President.  So  long 
as  the  League  exists  we  may  be  sure  that  no  effort 
will  be  wanting  to  protect  all  that  is  most  truly 
Irish  in  the  life  of  the  country.  Whether  it  can  do 
more  than  postpone  for  a  while  the  ultimate  disap- 
pearance of  the  Gaelic  language  is  a  question  which 
we  are  not  now  called  upon  to  discuss. 

For  many  reasons  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the 
energy  and  optimism  of  Hyde  will  be  justified.  The 
endurance  of  Gaelic  constitutes,  as  it  were,  a  reserve 
of  literary  vitality,  where  our  writers  may  renew 
themselves,  by  imbibing  afresh  from  the  very 
sources  of  the  national  spirit  and  tradition.  The 
obliteration  of  all  Gaelic  traces  would  probably 
weaken  the  forces  of  Anglo-Irish  literature  and  leave 
it  open  to  the  process  of  Anglicisation.  Where  there 
is  no  national  spirit  capable  of  moulding  the  liter- 
ature of  the  country  in  its  own  image,  no  tradition 
springing  up  from  the  roots  of  the  nation,  resistance 
is  impossible.  The  race  whose  language  is  used 


SOURCES  69 

inevitably  dominates.  It  is  highly  probable  that 
the  general  public  is  quite  uncertain  which  of  its 
favourite  novelists  and  poets  are  English  ~and 
which  are  American, — the  difference  is  not  always 
obvious. 

In  this  respect  Ireland  is  in  a  position  somewhat 
similar  to  that  of  Belgium.  If  some  French  critics 
prefer  to  consider  Brussels  as  the  centre  of  a  pro- 
vincial literature,  others  have  recognised  the  literary 
nationality  of  Belgium.  They  see  in  the  work  of  a 
Verhaeren  the  presence  of  elements  entirely  different 
from  those  that  characterise  French  poetry.  The 
spirit  of  Belgian  literature  expresses  a  tradition  far 
removed  from  that  of  France.  The  presence  of 
Walloon  and  Flemish  are  sufficient  to  guarantee  the 
immunity  of  Belgian  traditions,  and  to  safeguard 
the  nationality  of  those  who  write  and  speak  French. 
Like  Gaelic  in  Ireland,  they  exercise  an  influence 
upon  Franco-Belgian  literature  which  cannot  be 
overlooked.  Yet  Belgium  also  has  her  champions 
of  nationality,  who  fear  that  the  French  language  is 
incompatible  with  the  national  spirit.  In  both 
countries  the  obvious  solution  of  the  difficulty  is  the 
recognition  that  they  are  bi-lingual.  There  is  no 
necessary  conflict  between  Gaelic  and  Anglo-Irish 
literature,  they  are  complementary,  not  antagonistic. 
Whatever  reproaches  the  more  ardent  Gaels  have 
made  against  those  Irish  writers  whose  medium  is 
English,  the  latter  have  never  retaliated.  They 
admit  to  the  full  all  the  claims  of  the  older  language, 
and  they  have  constantly  acknowledged  their  obli- 
gations to  Gaelic  literature.  They  only  plead  for 
the  right  of  co-existence. 

In  addition  to  the  material  derived  from  the  old 
Gaelic  literature,  the  Revival  has  found  in  the  folk- 
lore and  folk-songs  of  the  peasantry  a  valuable 


70   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

deposit  of  literary  ore  which  was  in  danger  of  being 
lost  owing  to  the  disappearance  of  Gaelic.  This 
vast  unwritten  literature  was  cherished  solely  by 
the  Irish-speaking  country  folk,  and  the  diminution 
of  the  latter  threatened  it  with  oblivion.  It  was 
natural  that  Douglas  Hyde,  having  set  himself  to 
restore  the  Gaelic  language,  should  have  been 
keenly  sensible  of  the  value  of  these  songs  and 
stories,  which  contained,  as  it  were,  the  sparks  of 
the  tradition  which  he  was  endeavouring  to  fan  into 
flame.  He  began  at  an  early  date  to  collect  Gaelic 
folk-lore,  and  rapidly  established  a  reputation  as  the 
foremost  authority  in  this  branch  of  Irish  literature. 
As  a  folklorist  he  has  exercised  a  very  special  influ- 
ence upon  the  Literary  Revival.  Like  his  first  vol- 
ume of  folktales,  Leabhar  Sgeuluigheachta,  published 
in  1889,  most  of  his  work  has  been  written  in  Gaelic, 
for  the  force  of  personal  example  has  been  conspicu- 
ous in  his  propaganda  on  behalf  of  the  Language 
Movement.  In  order,  however,  to  reach  those  less 
proficient  than  himself,  he  adopted  in  many  cases 
the  plan  of  giving  parallel  versions,  Irish  on  the  one 
side  and  the  English  translation  on  the  other. 
Beside  the  Fire,  the  Love  Songs  of  Connacht  and  the 
Religious  Songs  of  Connacht  were  published  in  this 
fashion,  and  it  is  these  three  works  which  must 
directly  affect  the  development  of  Anglo-Irish  litera- 
ture. This  is  not  the  place  to  consider  Hyde's 
achievement  in  Gaelic,  but  his  translations  in  the 
three  volumes  referred  to  have  a  significance  which 
must  command  attention  in  any  study  of  the  Lit- 
erary Revival. 

Prior  to  1890  various  efforts  had  been  made  to 
preserve  something  of  Irish  folk-lore,  but  it  was  not 
until  the  appearance  in  that  year  of  Beside  the  Fire, 
that  any  serious  contribution  in  the  English  Ian- 


SOURCES  71 

guage  was  made  to  the  subject.  As  far  back  as 
1825,  Crofton  Croker  had  published  Fairy  Legends 
and  Traditions  of  the  South  of  Ireland,  a  work  whose 
literary  charm  has  been  widely  recognised,  but  whose 
scientific  value  is  as  slight  as  that  of  the  collections 
of  Kennedy,  Lady  Wilde  and  Curtin,  which  suc- 
ceeded it.  In  none  of  these  is  it  possible  to  discover 
the  sources  from  which  the  stories  have  been  col- 
lected, nor  can  one  be  certain  how  far  the  originals 
have  been  followed,  and  to  what  extent  the  ground- 
work has  been  elaborated  by  the  authors.  The 
folk-tales  suffered  in  many  ways  by  this  treatment. 
Their  origins  were  lost,  and  they  became  dissociated 
from  the  soil  from  which  they  sprang  by  the  fact 
that  interest  inevitably  shifted  from  the  stories 
themselves  to  the  manner  and  style  of  their  narra- 
tion. As  Hyde  pointed  out,  it  was  essential  that 
folk-lore  should  not  be  divorced  from  its  original 
expression  in  language.  It  is  easy,  therefore,  to 
understand  why  his  first  Book  of  Folk  Stories  (Leabhar 
Sgeuluigheachtd)  should  have  appeared  in  Irish,  for 
it  is  in  the  old  language  that  the  folk-tales  and  songs 
are  remembered.  Except  in  those  districts  where  Eng- 
lish displaced  Irish  at  such  an  early  date  that  edu- 
cation and  reading  had  not  time  to  thrust  themselves 
between  the  people  and  their  spoken  literature,  the 
Gaelic  stories  did  not  pass  into  the  new  language. 
Consequently  the  rapidly  declining  population  of 
native  Irish  speakers  constituted  the  source  of  Hyde's 
researches. 

In  Beside  the  Fire  he  gives,  in  addition  to  trans- 
lations of  portions  of  Leabhar  Sgeuluigheachta,  a 
number  of  Connacht  folk-tales,  in  the  original  Irish 
of  the  narrators,  with  a  parallel  version  in  English. 
In  this  way  Hyde  initiated  a  new  method  of  collect- 
ing and  preserving  Gaelic  folk-lore.  His  stories  are 


72   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

not  at  all  modified  by  him,  but  are  transcribed  as  he 
heard  them,  the  circumstances  under  which  each 
tale  was  obtained  being  included  in  an  appendix. 
The  same  treatment  was  adopted  by  William  Lar- 
minie,  whose  West  Irish  Folk-Tales  and  Romances 
was  published  in  1893,  and  did  for  the  coast  of 
Connacht  and  Donegal  what  Hyde  had  done  for 
the  inland  portion  of  the  first-mentioned  province. 
Larminie  did  not  always  give  the  Irish  text,  but  in 
the  cases  where  he  did  so,  his  work  had  the  addi- 
tional value  to  students  of  Gaelic,  of  reproducing 
phonetically  the  dialect  of  the  speaker. 

The  desire  for  accuracy  which  prompted  Hyde  to 
reproduce  the  original  language  of  the  Gaelic  folk- 
tales, and  the  consequent  method  of  giving  parallel 
translations,  are  factors  of  greater  significance  than 
might  at  first  sight  be  imagined.  This  constant 
juxtaposition  of  Irish  and  English  has  profoundly 
affected  the  form  of  modern  Anglo-Irish  literature. 
Instead  of  the  haphazard,  and  usually  quite  false, 
idioms  and  accent  which  at  one  time  were  the  con- 
vention in  all  reproductions  of  English  as  spoken  in 
Ireland,  the  Literary  Revival  has  given  us  the  true 
form  of  Anglo-Irish,  so  that  our  literature  represents 
perfectly  the  old  Gaelic  spirit  in  its  modern  garb. 
This  great  change  has  been  brought  about  by  two 
complementary  influences.  The  restoration  of  the 
Irish  language  has  reaffirmed  the  hold  of  Gaelic 
upon  the  mind  of  the  people,  and  emphasised  the 
modifications  of  English  as  moulded  by  the  Irish 
idiom.  At  the  same  time  the  scientific  care  with 
which  Hyde  and  the  translators  have  sought  to 
render  exactly  the  Anglo-Irish  equivalents  of  their 
texts  has  tended  to  fix  more  effectively  and  more 
precisely  the  language  of  an  English-speaking,  but 
essentially  Gaelic  race.  Beside  the  Fire,  so  far  as  it  is 


SOURCES  73 

written  in  English,  is  a  careful  study  of  that  language 
as  it  is  used  under  the  limitations  and  modifications 
imposed  by  the  older  tongue.  In  the  preface  Hy<k 
expresses  his  desire  to  avoid  literal  translation,  and 
his  determination  to  introduce  only  such  Gaelic 
idioms  as  are  ordinarily  introduced  into  their  Eng- 
lish by  the  people.  Within  these  limits  he  has  suc- 
ceeded in  giving  the  true  Irish  flavour  to  his  transla- 
tions, he  avoids  all  tenses  not  found  in  Irish,  and 
by  using  those  similarly  wanting  in  English,  as  well 
as  the  phrases  commonly  substituted  for  the  unfa- 
miliar tenses,  he  produces  a  pleasant  sense  'of  reality. 
This  book  is  as  far  from  the  imaginary  and  ludicrous 
English  of  the  traditional  Irishman,  as  from  the 
stilted  and  artificial,  or  too  literary,  style  of  its 
predecessors.  It  is  the  first  attempt  to  render  the 
folk-literature  of  Ireland  in  the  true  Anglo-Irish 
idiom,  and  marks  the  beginning  of  an  influence  which 
Hyde's  later  work  has  done  so  much  to  strengthen. 
The  introduction  of  Anglo-Irish  speech  into  lit- 
erature dates  from  an  earlier  period  than  that  which 
saw  the  birth  of  the  Celtic  renascence  and  the 
Literary  Revival.  The  early  nineteenth-century 
novelists,  Charles  Lever,  Samuel  Lover,  Gerald 
Griffin  and  the  Banims,  had  used  this  speech, 
mainly  as  the  vital  part  of  the  equipment  of  the 
"stage  Irishman,"  whom  they  invented.  In  this 
respect,  however,  exception  must  be  made  of  Wil- 
liam Carleton,  that  isolated  and  distinguished  figure 
in  the  literary  history  of  Ireland.  He  looked  upon 
his  country  with  the  eyes  of  a  true  Celt,  and  if  his  fine 
studies  of  country  life  have  constituted  him  the 
greatest  novelist  in  Irish  literature,  it  is  because 
they  are  characterised  by  a  degree  of  verisimilitude 
and  penetration  far  beyond  that  attained  by  his 
contemporaries  just  mentioned.  The  completeness 


74   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

and  realism  of  Carleton's  work  naturally  involved 
the  proper  use  of  the  language  of  the  people  whom 
he  described  so  faithfully.  Nevertheless,  the  more 
popular  writings  of  Lever  and  Lover  predominated 
in  the  public  mind, — for  Carleton  has  never  received 
his  due  measure  of  appreciation — and  Anglo-Irish 
became  associated  with  comic  situations  and  cheap 
buffoonery.  It  has  been  the  distinction  of  the  lit- 
erature of  the  Revival  that  it  has  here  effected  a 
complete  dissociation  of  ideas.  It  has  killed  the 
traditional  stage  Irishman — although  some  of  our 
novelists,  as  will  be  seen,  are  intent  upon  reviving 
him — and  with  him  has  disappeared  his  language. 
In  freeing  Anglo-Irish  from  the  vulgarities  and 
absurdities  which  clung  to  it,  and  restoring  it  to  the 
dignity  of  normal  human  speech,  Douglas  Hyde  per- 
formed a  service  no  less  valuable  to  literature  than 
his  work  for  the  preservation  of  Gaelic.  For  there 
can  be  little  doubt  that  this  great  change  is  due, 
for  the  most  part,  if  not  entirely,  to  the  example  of 
Hyde.  He  was  responsible  for  the  methodical  asso- 
ciation of  the  ancient  language  with  the  English 
that  has  accompanied  or  replaced  it  in  the  mouth 
of  the  people.  This  constant  conjunction,  in  addi- 
tion to  emphasising  the  influence  of  the  one  language 
upon  the  other,  tended  to  make  the  reproduction 
of  the  Anglo-Irish  idiom  more  accurate.  Less  at- 
tention was  paid  to  the  more  superficial  matter  of 
variations  in  vowel  sounds,  which  to  the  older 
writers  was  the  beginning  and  end  of  peasant  speech, 
and  more  care  was  taken  to  note  the  structural 
differences,  the  grammar  and  rhythm  of  English  as 
passed  through  the  Gaelic  mould. 

Beside  the  Fire,  while  it  showed  the  author's  pre- 
occupation with  the  scientific  use  of  Anglo-Irish,  did 
not  contain  the  elements  necessary  for  so  complete 


SOURCES  75 

a  transfiguration  of  this  speech  as  the  Literary 
Revival  has  witnessed.  What  was  there  suggested, 
and  very  cautiously  outlined,  did  not  wait  long  for 
complete  realisation.  In  1893,  The  Love  Songs  of 
Connacht  came  as  a  double  revelation,  first,  of  the 
beauties  of  folk-poetry,  and,  secondly,  of  the  charm 
of  Gaelicised  English.  Adopting  the  same  methods 
as  when  collecting  the  prose-tales  published  three 
years  before,  Hyde  had  obtained  from  the  lips  of  the 
Connacht  peasantry,  and  from  old  manuscripts 
hitherto  neglected,  a  number  of  charming  folk-songs 
in  danger  of  being  lost.  The  Songs  of  Connacht 
originally  appeared  in  serial  form  in  The  Nation,  and 
later,  in  The  Weekly  Freeman,  the  first  chapter  being 
published  in  1890.  There  were  seven  chapters  en- 
titled, respectively,  Carolan  and  his  Contemporaries, 
Songs  in  Praise  of  Women,  Drinking  Songs,  Love 
Songs,  Songs  Ascribed  to  Raftery  and  two  chapters  of 
Religious  Songs.  Of  these,  only  Chapters  IV,  V,  VI 
and  VII  were  translated  and  published  in  book  form. 
A  concluding  chapter  containing  Keenes  and  La- 
ments was  to  have  completed  the  work,  but  so  far  it 
has  never  been  published.  This  work  attaches  to 
that  of  Sigerson's  Poets  and  Poetry  of  Munster,  in 
that  it  performs  for  Connacht  the  same  service  as 
the  older  work  did  for  Munster.  Continuing  the 
method  initiated  by  Sigerson,  Hyde  attempts  in 
more  than  half  of  these  translations  to  reproduce  the 
rhyme  and  metres  of  the  original  Gaelic.  His  verse 
renderings  are  frequently  very  beautiful,  and, 
although  his  best  poetry  has  been  written  in  Gaelic, 
these  translations  prove  that  he  can  use  the  English 
language  with  real  skill  and  delicacy.  The  Love 
Songs  of  Connacht  were  supplemented  some  years 
later  by  Songs  Ascribed  to  Raftery  in  1903  and  in  1906 
by  The  Religious  Songs  of  Connacht.  These  volumes 


76   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

represent  a  most  valuable  treasury  of  folk-poetry, 
and  will  rank  with  the  work  of  Mangan  and  Sigerson 
as  the  repository  of  the  best  that  could  be  saved  of 
the  old  Gaelic  tradition  while  still  living.  The 
gathering  of  these  portions  of  a  great  heritage  was 
the  saving  of  the  still  smouldering  ashes  from  which 
a  new  flame  could  be  kindled. 

Important,  however,  as  is  this  aspect  of  Hyde's 
work,  these  Connacht  songs  have  a  special  signifi- 
cance for  the  student  of  .contemporary  Anglo-Irish 
literature.  Here  he  will  find  the  source  of  what  has 
come  to  be  regarded  as  the  chief  discovery,  and  most 
notable  characteristic,  of  the  drama  of  the  Literary 
Revival,  the  effective  employment  of  the  Anglo- 
Irish  idiom.  In  his  verse  Hyde  approximates,  in 
spite  of  himself,  to  the  style  of  the  orthodox  trans- 
lators who  preceded  him,  and  excellent  as  is  this 
part  of  his  work,  it  is  not  to  be  compared,  either  in 
beauty  or  importance,  with  the  prose  translations, 
which  are  frequently  substituted  for  rhymed  ver- 
sions, and  sometimes  accompany  them.  These  are 
his  finest  and  most  original  contributions  to  Anglo- 
Irish  literature,  and  have  proved  to  be  the  starting 
point  of  a  new  literary  language.  Casting  aside  the 
hesitations  which  restricted  him  in  his  English  ren- 
dering of  Beside  the  Fire,  Hyde  translated  his  Songs 
of  Connacht,  not  into  formal  English,  with  here  and 
there  a  Gaelicism,  but  into  the  language  nearest  the 
form  and  spirit  of  the  original,  the  English  of  the 
country  people,  in  whose  speech  the  old  Gaelic  influ- 
ences predominate.  Both  his  own  prose  commentary 
and  the  text  are  rendered  in  this  idiom,  and  the 
freshness  and  vigour  of  the  one,  coupled  with  the 
poetic  charm  of  the  other,  demonstrated  at  once  that 
a  new  medium  of  great  strength  and  flexibility  lay 
to  the  hand  of  Irish  literature: 


SOURCES  77 

"If  I  were  to  be  on  the  Brow  of  Nefin  and  my  hundred  loves  by 
my  side,  it  is  pleasantly  we  would  sleep  together  like  the  little  bird 
upon  the  bough.  It  is  your  melodious  wordy  little  mouth  thar 
increased  my  pain  and  a  quiet  sleep  I  cannot  get  until  I  shall 
die,  alas!" 

"If  you  were  to  see  the  star  of  knowledge  and  she  coming  in  the 
mouth  of  the  road,  you  would  say  that  it  was  a  jewel  at  a  distance 
from  you  who  would  disperse  fog  and  enchantment."  (Love  Songs  of 
Connacht.) 

Such  passages  abound  in  these  translations,  and 
are  obviously  the  forerunners  of  the  eloquent, 
rhythmic  phrasing  now  identified  with  the  style  of 
J.  M.  Synge.  Under  Hyde's  guidance,  he  achieved 
in  this  speech  effects  which  have  consecrated  the 
Anglo-Irish  idiom  as  a  vehicle  of  the  purest  poetry. 
The  extravagant,  amorous  speeches  of  The  Playboy  of 
the  Western  World  are  obviously  contained,  in  their 
essence,  in  Hyde's  versions. 

"If  you  were  to  see  the  sky-woman  and  she  prepared  and  dressed 
Of  a  fine  sunny  day  in  the  street,  and  She  walking, 
And  a  light  kindled  out  of  her  shining  bosom 
That  would  give  sight  to  the  man  without  an  eye. 
There  is  the  love  of  hundreds  in  the  forehead  of  her  face, 
Her  appearance  is  as  it  were  the  Star  of  Monday, 
And  if  she  had  been  in  being  in  the  time  of  the  gods 
It  is  not  to  Venus  the  apple  would  have  been  delivered  up." 

If  we  did  not  know  the  above  to  be  a  verse  from  the 
Songs  of  Raftery  we  might  easily  imagine  that  it  was 
a  fragment  of  The  Playboy,  Christy  Mahon's,  elo- 
quence. 

The  name  of  Douglas  Hyde  has  naturally  been 
more  prominently  associated  with  the  Gaelic  Move- 
ment than  with  the  Literary  Revival.  As  a  Gaelic 
writer  he  has  attained  a  distinction  which  consider- 
ably enhances  the  force  and  value  of  his  propaganda. 
The  Revival,  however,  must  always  count  him  a 


78    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

powerful  influence.  It  has  derived  strength  and 
support  from  the  collateral  effect  of  Hyde's  labours 
for  the  restoration  of  Gaelic,  and  to  his  direct 
collaboration  it  owes  in  part,  if  not  entirely,  some  of 
its  most  fortunate  achievements.  The  fundamental 
importance  of  the  Songs  of  Connacht  in  the  evolu- 
tion of  our  contemporary  literature  has  been  insuffi- 
ciently understood  by  the  general  public.  Once 
Hyde  had  set  the  example,  the  possibilities  of  Gaelic- 
English  were  realised  by  the  other  writers,  and 
greater  credit  has  fallen  to  the  better-known  work  of 
his  successors.  Lady  Gregory,  notably,  employed 
his  method  in  Cuchulain  of  Muirthemne  and  The 
Book  of  Saints  and  Wonders,  with  such  effect  that  it  is 
frequently  forgotten  how  O'Grady  preceded  her  by 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  in  the  field  of  legend,  and 
Hyde  by  ten  years,  in  the  use  of  Anglo-Irish  idiom. 
It  is  interesting,  therefore,  to  refer  to  the  testimony 
of  W.  B.  Yeats,  who  wrote  some  fifteen  years  ago, 
when  Douglas  Hyde  was  helping  to  create  an  Irish 
theatre: 

"These  plays  remind  me  of  my  first  reading  of  The  Love  Songs  of 
Connacht.  The  prose  parts  of  that  book  were  to  me,  as  they  were 
to  many  others,  the  coming  of  a  new  power  into  literature.  ...  I 
would  have  him  keep  to  that  English  idiom  of  the  Irish-thinking 
people  of  the  West. ...  It  is  the  only  good  English  spoken  by  any 
large  number  of  Irish  people  to-day,  and  one  must  found  good 
literature  on  a  living  speech." 

If  peasant  speech  has  now  become  an  accepted 
convention  of  the  Irish  theatre,  it  is  because  the 
younger  dramatists  have  confined  themselves  almost 
exclusively  to  the  writing  of  peasant  plays,  both 
these  mutually  dependent  facts  being  due  to  the 
prestige  conferred  upon  the  genre  by  Synge.  His 
plays  removed  this  speech  from  all  the  associations 
of  low  comedy  and  buffoonery  which  clung  to  it,  and 


SOURCES  79 

established  the  dignity  and  beauty  of  Anglo-Irish. 
While  he  consummated  the  rehabilitation  of  the 
idiom,  the  process  had  been  definitely  inaugurated 
by  Douglas  Hyde.  The  Love  Songs  of  Connacht 
were  the  constant  study  of  the  author  of  The  Play- 
boy, whose  plays  testify,  more  than  those  of  any 
other  writer,  to  the  influence  of  Hyde's  prose..  In 
thus  stimulating  the  dramatist  who  was  to  leave  so 
deep  a  mark  upon  the  form  of  the  Irish  Theatre, 
Douglas  Hyde  must  be  counted  an  important  force 
in  the  evolution  of  our  national  drama.  Without 
injustice  to  the  labours  of  W.  B.  Yeats,  it  may  be 
said  that  the  success  of  his  efforts  would  not  have 
been  complete  but  for  Synge.  Had  it  not  been  for 
Hyde,  the  latter' s  most  striking  achievement  might 
never  have  been  known. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  TRANSITION 

WILLIAM  ALLINGHAM.    THE  CRYSTALLISATION  OF  THE 
NEW  SPIRIT:  THE  IRISH  LITERARY  SOCIETIES 

DURING  the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  the  intellectual  energies  of  Ire- 
land were  so  absorbed  by  the  political 
struggle  that  literature  had  no  existence, 
except  in  so  far  as  it  ministered  to  the  cause  of 
nationalism  in  politics.  The  writers  of  The  Nation 
were,  as  has  been  stated,  patriots  first  and  poets 
after,  although  Davis's  writings  reveal  in  him  the 
desire  to  effect  an  awakening  of  the  Irish  spirit 
which  would  be  intellectual  and  literary  as  well  as 
political.  In  time  the  Young  Ireland  movement 
was  succeeded  by  the  Fenians,  whose  journal  The 
Irish  People  became  a  centre  of  politico-literary 
activity  analogous  to  The  Nation.  Its  editor,  John 
O'Leary,  had  a  fine  feeling  for  letters,  but  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  period  inevitably  favoured  the 
production  of  literature  in  which  political  values 
were  substituted  for  artistic.  The  poetry  of  the 
Fenian  movement  is  at  its  best  in  the  work  of  Charles 
J.  Kickham,  John  Keegan  Casey  and  Ellen  O'Leary. 
It  has  a  special  interest  in  the  history  of  the  Revival, 
for  instead  of  the  vehement  rhetorical  passion  of  the 
Young  Irelanders  we  find  a  plaintiveness,  a  sad 
idyllic  note,  which  suggest  the  transition  to  the  man- 
ner of  the  contemporary  Irish  poets.  It  is  not  with- 

80 


THE  TRANSITION  81 

out  a  certain  significance  that  O'Leary,  on  his  return 
from  exile,  should  have  actively  supported  the  revolt 
of  the  new  generation,  against  the  political  and  ora- 
torical vehemence  of  the  Young  Ireland  tradition. 

It  was  not  until  the  last  quarter  of  the  century 
that  there  was  any  concerted  literary  activity  entirely 
independent  of  political  purposes.  We  have  seen 
that  prior  to  that  time  individual  poets  had  worked 
apart  from  the  popular  literary  movements  of  their 
day,  and,  while  avoiding  the  political  nationalism  of 
the  latter,  had  contrived  to  give  to  their  work  the 
imprint  of  Irish  nationality,  in  the  deepest  sense. 
The  most  important  of  these  was  Ferguson,  who 
was  not  identified  with  either  The  Nation  group  or 
the  poets  of  the  Fenian  movement.  The  position  of 
his  contemporaries  Aubrey  de  Vere  and  William 
Allingham  was  somewhat  similar;  they  too  were 
working  upon  Irish  themes,  and  ultimately  found  in 
the  Gaelic  legends  some  of  the  material  of  their  art. 
Their  work,  however,  is  English  rather  than  Celtic 
in  spirit,  and  hardly  belongs  to  the  new  literature. 
For  that  reason  Ferguson,  not  de  Vere,  is  the  herald 
of  the  Revival,  although  the  latter's  Inisfail  was 
published  four  years  earlier  than  Lays  of  the  Western 
Gael,  and  his  Legends  of  St.  Patrick  coincided  with 
the  appearance  of  Congal,  in  1872.  Allingham  at 
times  came  nearer  to  the  Irish  tradition  than  de 
Vere  who,  though  he  survived  both  Ferguson  and 
Allingham,  and  lived  to  witness  the  first  fruits  of  the 
renascence,  remained  fundamentally  an  English 
poet  of  the  Wordsworthian  line.  As  early  as  1864, 
one  year  before  Ferguson's  Lays,  Allingham  had 
published  Laurence  Bloomfield  in  Ireland,  for  whose 
"flat  decasyllabics"  the  author  had  justly  but  little 
hope  of  success.  It  is  said  that  this  poem  first 
awakened  Gladstone's  interest  in  the  agrarian  prob- 


82    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

lem,  as  it  existed  in  Ireland.  But  the  "epic  of  the 
Irish  Land  Question"  gains  nothing  by  reference  to 
the  judgment  of  one  whose  enthusiasms,  so  far  as 
contemporary  literature  was  concerned,  must  often 
have  been  a  shock  to  his  admirers.  More  successful 
were  the  songs  and  ballads  which  at  once  became 
popular  with  the  people  of  Allingham's  native  Bally- 
shannon.  Some  of  these  appeared  in  The  Music 
Master  in  1855,  and  from  the  preface  it  appears  that 
certain  of  them  were  actually  printed  and  circulated 
in  the  traditional  ballad-sheet  form.  Such  songs  as 
The  Winding  Banks  of  Erne  and  Kate  of  Bally shanny 
are  far  more  perfect  of  their  kind  than  any  of  the 
author's  longer  Irish  poems.  The  proof  of  their 
success  resides  in  the  fact  that  they  have  become 
familiar  throughout  the  countryside. 

Allingham  wavered  always  between  the  two  tra- 
ditions, and  were  it  not  for  his  ballads,  he  would  not 
find  a  place  in  the  history  of  Anglo-Irish  literature. 
He  had  an  entirely  English  distrust  for  the  Anglo- 
Irish  idiom,  in  spite  of  his  desire  to  write  popular 
songs.  He  recorded  his  pleasure  at  hearing  his  songs 
sung  by  the  girls  at  their  cottage  doors  in  Bally- 
shannon,  nevertheless  he  shrank  from  using  the 
phraseology  natural  to  that  form  of  composition. 
He  actually  complains  that  "the  choice  of  words 
for  poetry  in  Irish-English  is  narrowly  limited," 
without  realising  that  this  absence  of  variety  was 
due  solely  to  his  own  fear  of  departing  from  the  con- 
ventional diction  of  literary  English.  Now  that 
Hyde,  Synge  and  the  younger  poets  have  shown  the 
effects  that  may  be  obtained  by  the  use  of  that  idiom, 
it  is  difficult  to  sympathise  with  Allingham's  apolo- 
gies for  the  occasional  employment  of  it.  His  fail- 
ure to  perceive  the  beauties  of  a  medium  he  had  evi- 
dently tried  to  wield  stamps  him  as  quite  out  of 


THE  TRANSITION  83 

touch  with  the  current  of  modern  Irish  literature. 
He  could,  however,  hardly  have  been  otherwise. 
As  editor  of  Eraser's  Magazine  he  was  more  inti- 
mately associated  with  the  literary  life  of  England 
than  of  Ireland.  His  close  friendship  with  Carlyle, 
Tennyson,  and  with  the  Pre-Raphaelites,  influenced 
him  more  than  anything  in  his  own  country.  There 
was  then  no  centre  of  literary  activity  in  Ireland  to 
which  he  might  turn.  He  was  the  last  of  the  scat- 
tered, isolated,  Irish  poets,  who  essayed  to  cultivate 
something  of  the  national  tradition,  while  unable  to 
join  the  politico-literary  groups  of  their  time.  That 
Allingham  did  not  succeed  in  this  respect  as  Fergu- 
son succeeded,  was  natural.  He  had  none  of  the 
latter' s  knowledge  of  Gaelic  antiquity,  and  had  not 
deliberately  renounced  the  chance  of  securing  recog- 
nition as  an  English  poet  by  devoting  himself  to 
Irish  legendary  and  historical  themes.  In  spite  of 
a  typically  West  Briton  fear  that  an  Irish  Parlia- 
ment would  make  Ireland  not  so  "homely  as  Devon- 
shire," Allingham  was  attached  to  his  country. 
Whenever  he  was  inspired  by  the  love  of  his  native 
home,  Ballyshannon,  his  verse  revealed  the  tempera- 
ment and  spirit  of  his  race.  Neither  his  political  and 
religious  alienation,  nor  his  English  milieu  could 
obliterate  these.  It  is  by  such  songs  that  he  is 
remembered  in  the  history  of  Anglo-Irish  literature. 
The  death  of  William  Allingham  in  1889  coincided 
with  the  beginning  of  a  new  phase  in  the  literary 
evolution  of  Ireland.  The  collapse  of  the  Parnell 
movement  brought  about  a  slackening  of  political 
pressure  which  enabled  the  intellectual  forces  to 
emerge  that  had  been  germinating  and  gathering 
strength  during  the  early  Eighties.  The  first  volumes 
of  various  young  poets  had  just  been  published 
(Katharine  Tynan's  Louise  de  la  Valliere  and  Sham- 


84   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

rocks,  W.  B.  Yeats's  Mosada  and  The  Wanderings  of 
Oisin  and  William  Larminie's  Glanlua)  and  had 
secured  an  amount  of  attention  that  would  have 
been  impossible  in  the  years  of  strenuous  politics. 
Both  in  Dublin  and  in  London  groups  of  writers 
were  forming  for  the  purpose  of  fostering  Irish  lit- 
erature, and  the  idea  of  literary,  as  distinct  from 
political,  nationalism  was  taking  shape  in  the  minds 
of  a  new  generation.  The  example  and  enthusiasm 
of  O'Grady  had  turned  the  poets  to  the  sources  of 
nationality,  and  for  the  first  time  there  was  a  deliber- 
ate concentration  of  effort  upon  the  foundation  of  a 
new  literature  which  would  carry  on  the  traditions 
of  the  old.  At  last  the  time  had  come  when  a  con- 
certed move  was  possible,  by  joining  the  two  ele- 
ments which  had  heretofore  remained  apart.  So  far, 
the  division  of  Irish  writers  has  been  into  two  cate- 
gories. On  the  one  hand  those  who  banded  together 
for  political  purposes,  with  patriotic  verse  as  an 
accidental  or  incidental  accompaniment.  On  the 
other,  the  more  or  less  isolated  individuals  who 
strove  to  renew  the  Celtic  spirit,  but  whose  common 
endeavour  failed  to  bring  them  together,  although 
it  excluded  them  from  the  existing  politico-literary 
groups.  Now  we  enter  upon  a  new  period  when, 
with  the  elimination  of  purely  political  partisanship, 
and  the  substitution  of  a  broad  sense  of  nationality, 
there  came  a  conscious  unity  of  purpose.  Associa- 
tions were  formed  of  a  non-political,  intellectual,  yet 
national,  kind.  This  co-operation  of  nationalism 
and  literature,  outside  of  politics,  resulted  in  the 
renascence  known  as  the  Irish  Literary  Revival. 

The  definite  crystallisation  of  the  movement  of 
cohesion  was  the  creation  in  1892  of  the  Irish  Literary 
Society  in  London  and  the  Irish  National  Literary 
Society  in  Dublin.  The  first  steps  were  taken  in 


THE  TRANSITION  85 

London,  where  the  Southwark  Irish  Literary  Club 
was  founded  in  1883.  During  the  time  of  political 
stress  this  club  had  contented  itself,  like  others  of  its 
kind,  with  attending  to  the  education  of  the  Irish 
children  of  South  London.  As  the  years  went  on  it 
became  evident  that  a  more  direct  preoccupation 
with  literature  would  have  some  chance  of  success, 
and  the  Club  organised  itself  on  lines  more  similar 
to  those  afterwards  adopted  by  the  Literary  Socie- 
ties. Lectures  were  delivered  on  Irish  subjects,  the 
work  of  Irish  poets  was  collected  and  published,  and 
a  general  effort  was  made  to  stimulate  the  interest 
and  activities  of  Irish  readers  and  writers.  New 
talent  was  encouraged  by  the  institution  of  "orig- 
inal nights,"  when  members  had  to  contribute  mate- 
rial from  their  own  resources.  Some  of  the  mem- 
bers subsequently  presented  their  work  to  the  pub- 
lic and  met  with  a  favourable  reception.  Probably 
the  most  important  of  these  was  F.  A.  Fahy,  whose 
Irish  Songs  and  Poems  appeared  in  1887,  after 
having  served  as  his  contributions  to  many  "orig- 
inal nights."  As  popular  poetry  this  book  has 
enjoyed  wide  success,  but  the  author  is  more  import- 
ant to  the  present  history  as  being  the  pioneer  who 
prepared  the  way  for  the  Irish  Literary  Society.  It 
was  he  who  worked  so  hard  in  the  early  days  of  the 
Southwark  Junior  Literary  Club,  and  effected  the 
various  transformations  which  made  of  that  modest 
institution  a  literary  centre  for  Irishmen  in  London, 
until  the  transition  to  the  Irish  Literary  Society  was 
inevitable  and  almost  imperceptible. 

The  Southwark  Literary  Club  had  been  in  exist- 
ence some  years  while  a  corresponding  group  was 
forming  in  Dublin.  In  1888,  the  Pan-Celtic  Society 
was  created,  but  its  membership  was  more  restricted 
than  that  of  the  London  Club,  for  only  those  could 


86   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

join  who  had  made  some  original  contribution  to 
Irish  literature,  or  who  had  a  literary  acquaintance 
with  the  Irish  language.  Douglas  Hyde,  George 
Sigerson,  John  Todhunter  and  A.  P.  Graves,  may  be 
mentioned  as  the  more  important  of  those  who  initi- 
ated the  Society,  together  with  a  number  of  writers 
of  varying  note,  from  Rose  Kavanagh,  Ellen  O'Leary 
and  John  O'Leary  to  Gerald  C.  Felly,  A.  F.  Downey 
and  M.  D.  Wyer,  the  three  real  founders,  whose 
names  have  lapsed  into  obscurity.  Most  of  these 
early  members  contributed  to  Lays  and  Lyrics  of  the 
Pan-Celtic  Society,  an  undistinguished  volume  which 
appeared  in  1889  and  was  far  from  revealing  the 
promise  of  the  literature  at  that  time  in  preparation. 
The  Pan-Celtic  Society  is  interesting  because  of  its 
intentions  rather  than  of  its  actual  achievement. 
The  conditions  of  membership  indicated  a  more 
deliberate  attempt  to  carry  on  the  work  of  the 
Revival,  by  uniting  only  those  who  were  actively 
aiding  the  creation  of  a  new  literature.  The  inclu- 
sion of  those  possessing  a  knowledge  of  Irish  may  be 
regarded  as  part  of  this  intention,  inasmuch  as  the 
tapping  of  Gaelic  sources  was  an  essential.  At  the 
same  time  it  may  be  considered  as  the  germ  of  the 
idea  afterwards  elaborated  by  Douglas  Hyde  in  the 
foundation  of  the  Gaelic  League. 

Now  that  the  same  current  was  working  simultane- 
ously in  Dublin  and  London,  the  principle  of  co- 
operation for  literary  objects  was  definitely  and 
practically  established.  There  was  a  constant  inter- 
change of  men  and  ideas  between  the  societies  in 
both  capitals.  In  London  the  Southwark  Club  was 
attracting  the  young  writers;  W.  B.  Yeats  had  lec- 
tured, and  Katharine  Tynan,  John  Todhunter, 
Douglas  Hyde,  and  others,  had  found  their  way  to 
the  meetings.  This  influx  of  original  talent  led  to 


THE  TRANSITION  87 

certain  changes  and  modifications.  Lecturing  ceased 
to  be  the  mainstay  of  the  Club,  there  was  a  growing 
conviction  that  more  attention  should  be  given  to 
the  production  of  new  work,  and  the  publication  of 
older  writers  whose  names  were  being  forgotten  by  a 
generation  unfamiliar  with  the  periodicals  to  which 
they  contributed.  In  1891,  a  meeting  took  place  at 
the  house  of  W.  B.  Yeats.  T.  W.  Rolleston,  Todhunter 
and  other  members  of  the  Southwark  Club  were 
present,  and  a  scheme  was  discussed  whereby  the 
Club  might  be  transformed  into  a  more  efficient 
medium  for  the  cultivation  and  spread  of  Irish  lit- 
erature. The  result  was  seen  in  the  following  year 
when  the  Irish  Literary  Society  and  the  Irish  Na- 
tional Literary  Society  came  into  existence.  The 
London  Society  soon  gathered  together  the  best  of 
the  Irish  poets,  Lionel  Johnson,  Stopford  Brooke, 
Alice  Milligan,  Katharine  Tynan,  John  Todhunter. 
To  these  we  may  add  the  names  of  some  of  the 
better-known  members  of  the  Dublin  Society:  Siger- 
son,  Hyde,  Standish  O'Grady,  Yeats  and  William 
Larminie.  A  glance  at  these  names  is  sufficient  to 
show  that  in  the  year  1892  the  two  Societies  were 
representative  of  contemporary  Anglo-Irish  Litera- 
ture, and  that  they  contained  the  forces  to  which  we 
owe  the  Literary  Revival.  For  a  few  years  after 
the  inauguration  of  the  Irish  Literary  and  Irish 
National  Literary  Societies,  it  was  permissible  to 
speak  of  a  literary  "movement"  in  Ireland.  This 
unity  and  homogeneity  of  Irish  intellectual  activity 
lasted  long  enough  to  impose  the  conception  of  a 
national  Anglo-Irish  literature,  but  the  process  of 
disintegration  was  too  rapid  to  justify  the  applica- 
tion of  the  word  movement  to  its  later  phases. 

The  main  purposes  of  these  Societies  was  to  foster 
the  new  growth  of  Irish  literature  by  means  of  lee- 


88    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

tures  on  Celtic  subjects,  and  by  the  publication  of 
the  work  of  writers  hitherto  neglected,  as  well  as  of 
the  younger  men  who  were  beginning  to  make  them- 
selves heard.  Some  of  these  early  lectures  are  most 
excellent  propaganda,  and  constitute,  in  their  printed 
form,  documents  of  some  importance  in  the  history 
of  contemporary  literature  in  Ireland.  In  Dublin, 
the  inaugural  address,  Irish  Literature:  its  Origin, 
Environment  and  Influence,  was  delivered  by  George 
Sigerson,  who  gave  in  brief  outline  a  survey  of  the 
material  which  he  developed  and  illustrated  later  in 
Bards  of  the  Gael  and  Gall.  This  fine  resume  was 
particularly  well  chosen  in  the  circumstances,  for  it 
was  at  once  a  reminder  of  Ireland's  past  literary 
greatness  and  an  indication  of  the  direction  in  which 
her  future  must  evolve.  The  following  year,  1893, 
saw  the  inauguration  of  the  London  Society  by  a 
lecture  from  Stopford  Brooke  on  The  Need  and  Use 
of  Getting  Irish  Literature  into  the  English  Tongue. 
While  estimating  the  importance  of  ancient  litera- 
ture, the  lecturer  vindicated  the  right  of  Anglo- 
Irish  literature  to  be  regarded  as  its  successor.  As 
he  pointed  out,  the  use  of  the  English  language  need 
not  necessarily  hamper  the  expression  of  the  Celtic 
spirit  nor  interfere  with  the  continuance  of  Gaelic 
traditions.  In  order,  however,  that  this  might  be 
so,  it  was  imperative  that  Anglo-Irish  writers  should 
work  upon  the  material  bequeathed  to  them  by 
their  Gaelic  ancestors.  Amplifying  this  point,  the 
lecturer  demonstrated  the  importance  of  the  work 
of  translation  and  popularisation  by  which  the 
legendary  and  historical  past  could  be  brought  before 
the  public.  He  defined  the  most  essential  tasks,  as 
the  translation  of  the  Gaelic  texts,  the  moulding  of 
the  various  mythological  and  historical  cycles  into  an 
imaginative  unity,  after  the  fashion  of  Malory,  the 


THE  TRANSITION  89 

treatment  m  verse  of  the  isolated  episodes  and  tales 
relating  to  the  heroes  of  the  supernatural  and  heroic 
world,  and,  finally,  the  collection  of  the  folk-stories- 
of  Ireland.  In  these  four  branches  he  predicted 
that  the  sources  of  a  literary  renascence  would  be 
found.  The  results  which  are  now  traceable  to  the 
efforts  of  O'Grady,  Sigerson  and  Hyde  are  proofs  of 
the  wisdom  of  Stopford  Brooke's  recommendations. 
Indeed,  at  the  present  time,  it  is  difficult  to  re-read 
his  lecture  without  feeling  that  it  is  a  complete  mani- 
festo of  the  principles  and  aims  of  the  Literary  Re- 
vival. 

While  lectures  from  Standish  O'Grady,  Douglas 
Hyde,  W.  B.  Yeats,  Lionel  Johnson  and  others,  made 
this  part  of  the  programme  a  success,  the  Societies 
were  less  fortunate  with  the  other  important  branch 
of  their  undertaking.  It  will  be  remembered  that 
when  Yeats  and  his  friends  reconstituted  the  South- 
wark  Literary  Club  the  publishing  of  Irish  books  was 
a  most  essential  feature  of  their  plans.  This  idea 
was  ultimately  half  realised,  but  not  until  it  had 
provoked  a  scission  in  the  newly-formed  ranks  of 
Irish  literature.  The  early  lectures  must  be  counted 
as  among  the  most  useful  contributions  to  the  Lit- 
erary Revival,  and  those  that  have  been  preserved 
are  valuable  documents  to  the  student  of  its  history. 
To  the  addresses  already  mentioned  may  be  added 
Hyde's  Necessity  of  De- Anglicising  the  Irish  Nation , 
and  Lionel  Johnson's  Poetry  and  Patriotism,  which 
have  been  given  to  the  public  in  book  form.  Not  so 
successful,  however,  was  the  series  of  books  for  which 
the  Irish  Literary  Society  was  indirectly,  at  least, 
responsible.  Published  as  "The  New  Irish  Library," 
under  the  editorship  of  the  first  President  of  the 
Society,  these  books  by  no  means  corresponded  to 
the  needs  of  Irish  writers  as  originally  and  rightly 


90    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

defined  by  those  who  met  at  Yeats's  house  in  1891. 
There  was  no  attempt  to  encourage  unknown  talent 
and  consequently  none  of  the  works  chosen  represent 
new  names  that  have  since  become  famous.  In 
fact,  apart  from  O'Grady's  Bog  of  Stars  and  Hyde's 
Story  of  Early  Gaelic  Literature^  the  "New  Irish 
Library"  contains  no  new  work  of  any  significance 
in  the  Literary  Revival.  Ferguson's  Lays  of  the  Red 
Branch  was  available  in  another  form,  and  the 
remaining  volumes  bear  no  relation  to  the  new  lit- 
erature that  was  being  written. 

The  cause  of  this  failure  was  the  conflict  which 
arose  out  of  the  difference  of  opinion  between  two 
generations  as  to  what  national  literature  really 
should  be.  On  the  one  side  were  the  young  writers 
of  whom  Yeats  was  the  spokesman,  representing  the 
future;  on  the  other  was  Sir  Gavan  Duffy,  who 
belonged  to  the  past.  The  friend  of  Davis,  and  one 
who  had,  consequently,  participated  in  the  only  pre- 
vious attempt  to  effect  an  intellectual  awakening  in 
Ireland,  Gavan  Duffy  was,  of  course,  an  exponent 
of  the  ideas  of  The  Nation  school,  of  which  he  was  the 
survivor.  His  election  to  the  Presidency  of  the  Irish 
Literary  Society  was  doubtless  imposed  by  the  pres- 
tige attaching  to  one  who  had  helped  to  make  Irish 
history.  His  young  admirers  had  the  superstitious 
respect  of  youth  for  old  age.  Generous  as  were  their 
sentiments,  they  inevitably  redounded  to  the  discom- 
fort of  a  Society  bent  upon  innovation.  The  Presi- 
dent's conception  of  Irish  literature  was  exactly  op- 
posed to  that  of  the  new  generation,  his  standards 
were  those  of  the  politico-literary  groups  of  his 
youth.  In  the  Irish  press,  W.  B.  Yeats  fought  on 
behalf  of  his  contemporaries,  and  in  various  articles 
and  lectures  defined  the  claims  and  principles  of 
nationality,  as  opposed  to  political  nationalism,  in 


THE  TRANSITION  91 

letters.  The  controversy  over  the  publication  of 
"The  New  Irish  Library"  is  a  specific  incident  in  the 
continuous  fight  of  the  younger  writers  against 
the  literary  ideals  of  the  old  school.  It  is  only  neces- 
sary to  re-read  the  contemporary  utterances,  such 
for  example  as  Lionel  Johnson's  Poetry  and  Patriot- 
ism, to  see  how  sharp  was  the  conflict  between  the 
new  and  the  old.  It  was  the  eternal  clash  of  youth 
and  old  age  with  the  usual  results.  At  first  defer- 
ence to  years,  actually  or  supposedly  fruitful  of 
experience,  the  incurable  optimism  which  makes  the 
young  hopeful  of  the  co-operation  of  their  elders, 
and  finally,  the  realisation  of  an  abyss  between  the 
two,  into  which  one  or  other  falls  in  the  attempt  to 
cross  the  bridge  of  compromise. 

So  far  as  "The  New  Irish  Library"  was  con- 
cerned, Gavan  Duffy's  ideas  carried  the  day.  In- 
stead of  work  which  might  now  be  considered  as  the 
first  offerings  of  the  Revival,  he  selected,  for  the  most 
part,  waifs  and  strays  of  the  Young  Ireland  Move- 
ment,  or  writers  of  slight  interest  beyond  the  genera- 
tion of  1848.  Those  who  should  have  been  included 
published  their  work  elsewhere,  affirming  the  new  spirit, 
and  confirming  the  tendencies  which  are  now  recog- 
nised as  the  basis  of  national  literature.  At  the  same 
time  this  early  split  has  had  a  decided  effect.  It  is 
probably  because  of  this  rift  that  Irish  literary  effort 
never  attained  for  long  a  sufficient  degree  of  con- 
certed action  to  warrant  its  being  termed  a  "move- 
ment." Without  underestimating  the  work  accom- 
plished by  the  Irish  Literary  and  the  Irish 
National  Literary  Societies,  it  may  be  said  that 
they  have  not  fulfilled  the  role  originally  assigned 
to  them. 

The  "spirit  of  The  Nation"  element  has  somehow 
preponderated,  and  the  best  work  of  the  Revival 


92    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

has  been  created  outside  of  them.  Many  of  the 
finest  writers  are  not  associated  with  either  Society, 
unless  purely  formally,  in  the  case  of  some  of  the 
older  names.  While  they  have  not  remained 
strangers  to  any  manifestation  of  intellectual  ac- 
tivity, they  have  usually  been  witnesses  after  the 
fact.  With  a  huge  membership  they  make  no  pre- 
tence of  having  a  majority  creatively  interested  in 
literature.  The  dramatic  movement,  though  begun 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Irish  Literary  Society, 
soon  drifted  away  as  a  separate  organisation,  as, 
before  it,  the  Gaelic  Movement  had  engendered  the 
Gaelic  League.  Thus  neither  Gaelic  nor  Anglo- 
Irish  literature  centres  about  these  Societies,  which 
are  content  to  be  informed  of  what  is  happening  in 
either  branch  by  the  lecturers  whom  they  invite 
from  time  to  time.  Nevertheless  they  have  adapted 
themselves  to  the  moderate  part  circumstances  have 
called  upon  them  to  play.  In  London  particularly 
the  Irish  Literary  Society  still  subserves  its  most 
useful  and  original  purpose,  as  a  meeting  place  for  all 
concerned  with  Irish  literature.  In  Dublin  the  pres- 
ence of  smaller  groups  of  writers  makes  this  need  of 
a  common  centre  less  felt.  In  both  cities  the  So- 
cieties maintain  the  necessary  current  of  sympathy 
between  those  at  the  head  of  the  literary  stream  and 
those  who  are  nearer  the  mouth.  If  they  do  not 
constitute  a  "movement,"  they  idnicate,  at  all 
events,  a  consciousness  of  literary  identity.  "A 
literary  movement,"  says  a  well-known  Irish  poet, 
"consists  of  five  or  six  people  who  live  in  the  same 
town  and  hate  each  other  cordially."  This  boutade 
provoked  by  the  constant  references  to  "the  Irish 
Literary  Movement,"  is  as  close  to  the  facts  of  Irish 
experience  as  the  exaggeration  of  paradox  will  per- 
mit. So  long,  however,  as  our  Literary  Societies 


THE  TRANSITION  93 

exist  they  will  supply  a  register  of  our  belief  that 
there  is  an  Irish,  as  distinct  from  an  English,  liter- 
ature, though  it  cannot  be  enclosed  in  the  terms  of~a 
movement. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  REVIVAL 

POEMS  AND  BALLADS  OF  YOUNG  IRELAND.  J.  TOD- 
HUNTER,  KATHARINE  TYNAN,  T.  W.  ROLLESTON, 
WILLIAM  LARMINIE 

RELIEF  from  politics  has  been  the  condition 
precedent  of  intellectual,  as  well  as  of 
economic,  progress  in  Ireland.  Then  only 
has  it  been  possible  to  divert  intellectual 
energies  into  the  broader  channels  of  social  recon- 
struction. The  "first  lull  in  politics"  postulated  by 
W.  B.  Yeats,  slight  though  it  was,  proved  sufficient 
to  permit  a  certain  intellectual  expansion,  whose  out- 
ward and  more  material  manifestations  have  been 
noticed  in  the  last  chapter.  This  sense  of  unity  and 
cohesion,  which  resulted  in  the  creation  of  the  Lit- 
erary Societies,  was,  of  course,  for  some  years  a  strong 
undercurrent  awaiting  a  propitious  moment  to  rise 
to  the  surface.  This  period  of  waiting,  while  the 
seeds  of  a  new  literary  ideal  were  germinating  and 
spreading,  was  not  barren  of  fruit  of  a  certain 
maturity.  Under  the  editorship  of  T.  W.  Rolleston, 
The  Dublin  University  Review  was  publishing  work 
of  a  distinctive  kind,  notably  that  of  W.  B.  Yeats, 
while  The  Irish  Monthly  was  for  some  time  the 
meeting  place  of  many  young  poets  since  promi- 
nently identified  with  the  Literary  Revival.  Apart, 
however,  from  these  individual  activities  must  be 
considered  Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young  Ireland, 
which  in  1888  announced  the  co-operative,  con- 

94 


THE  REVIVAL  95 

certed  nature  of  the  effort  of  the  younger  generation 
to  give  a  new  impulse  to  Irish  poetry. 

This  slim  little  book,  in  its  white  buckram  covers,  - 
will  always  be  regarded  with  special  affection  by 
lovers  of  Irish  literature,  for  it  was  the  first  offering 
of  the  Literary  Revival.  Here  are  associated  as 
collaborators  the  names  of  those  who  have  estab- 
lished the  claim  of  Ireland  to  be  adequately  ex- 
pressed in  the  English  language.  George  Sigerson 
contributed  one  poem,  as  the  representative  of  the 
pioneers,  but  the  bulk  of  the  volume  is  the  work  of 
the  younger  writers — Douglas  Hyde,  T.  W.  Rolles- 
ton,  W.  B.  Yeats,  Katharine  Tynan,  Rose  Kavanagh 
and  John  Todhunter.  The  last-mentioned,  though 
a  contemporary  of  Sigerson,  must  be  regarded  as  a 
newcomer  so  far  as  Irish  poetry  is  concerned,  his 
earlier  work  deriving  no  inspiration  from  national 
sources.  Some  crudities  of  rhyme  are  noticeable  in  a 
few  of  the  poems,  though  principally  in  those  of  the 
minor  contributors,  who  have  never  taken  a  very 
high  place  among  the  poets  of  the  Revival.  The  ma- 
jority of  the  contributions  show  a  singular  sureness 
of  grip  and  a  maturity  of  talent,  remarkable  in  the 
verse  of  beginners.  Such  poems  as  Yeats's  King 
Goll  and  The  Stolen  Child,  Todhunter's  Aghadoe  and 
The  Coffin  Ship,  possessed  qualities  of  emotion  and 
execution  which  have  since  entitled  them  to  rank 
with  the  best  that  these  writers  have  done. 

Whatever  be  the  merits  and  defects  of  each  poem, 
the  volume  as  a  whole  represents  a  high  level  of 
workmanship.  But  it  is  not  so  much  for  that  reason, 
as  on  account  of  its  freshness  and  promise,  that  Poems 
and  Ballads  of  Young  Ireland  must  be  counted  as 
an  historical  document.  Here  and  there  are  verses 
inspired  by  the  old  spirit  of  rhetoric  and  aggressive 
patriotism,  but  the  book  is  essentially  a  harbinger 


96   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

of  the  new  tradition  in  Irish  poetry.  Douglas  Hyde's 
From  the  Irish  and  St.  Colum-Cille  and  the  Heron  have 
their  basis  in  those  Gaelic  songs  whose  revelation 
has  become  our  debt  to  him;  in  The  Flight  of  O'Don- 
nell,  T.  W.  Rolleston's  theme  was  that  which  had 
seized  about  the  same  time  the  imagination  of 
O'Grady,  and  gave  us  the  spirited  romances,  Red 
Hugh's  Captivity  and  The  Flight  of  the  Eagle.  Yeats 
showed  at  once  his  preoccupation  with  the  legends 
and  fairy  stories  of  the  countryside,  while  Tod- 
hunter  even  advanced  to  the  point  of  making  Anglo- 
Irish  the  effective  and  pathetic  medium  of  tragic 
speech.  Titles  such  as  BresaTs  Bride  and  The  Dead 
at  Clonmacnois,  were  indicative  of  the  return  to  the 
heroic  age  and  to  the  legendary  material  in  which 
Standish  O'Grady  had  stimulated  such  an  interest. 
In  short,  the  themes  of  this  first  non-political  asso- 
ciation of  Irish  writers  are  intensely  Irish,  yet, 
with  two  or  three  exceptions,  they  are  entirely  dis- 
similar from  those  that  inspired  the  singers  of  the 
'48  movement,  or  the  Fenians,  who  are  here  repre- 
sented by  Ellen  O'Leary.  Even  her  contributions 
have  more  of  the  plaintiveness  than  of  aggressive- 
ness which  have  been  noted  as  the  characteristics  of 
the  school  to  which  she  belonged.  Poems  and  Ballads 
of  Young  Ireland  is  patriotic,  but  patriotism  in  the 
old  sense  did  not  inspire  these  writers.  For  political 
history  they  substituted  legends,  fairy  tales,  the 
spiritism  of  the  Irish  countryside,  and  so  doing  they 
indicated  broadly  the  lines  upon  which  contemporary 
poetry  has  developed. 


JOHN   TODHUNTER 

Of  those  who  collaborated  in  Poems  and  Ballads  of 
Young  Ireland  Todhunter  was,  with  Sigerson,  the 


THE  REVIVAL  97 

representative  of  an  older  generation.  Although 
born  in  the  same  year  as  the  latter,  he  was  the  oldest 
and  most  experienced  writer  of  the  group.  While 
Sigerson's  first  book,  Poets  and  Poetry  of  Munster, 
appeared  in  1860,  it  was  not  until  1897  that  Bards  of 
the  Gael  and  Gall,  his  second  contribution  to  litera- 
ture, appeared.  Todhunter,  on  the  other  hand, 
though  he  began  later,  in  1876,  with  Laurella  and 
other  Poems,  had  half  a  dozen  volumes  to  his  name 
when  Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young  Ireland  was  pub- 
lished. His  Study  of  Shelley  in  1880,  followed  by 
Forest  Songs  in  1881,  had  established  his  position  as  a 
poet  and  critic  of  some  importance,  and  three  trage- 
dies, AlkestiSy  Rienzi  and  Helena  in  Troas,  had  secured 
him  the  approbation  of  competent  judges  of  classical 
literature.  None  of  this  work,  however,  bore  any 
trace  of  the  author's  nationality,  and  it  was  not  until 
he  was  caught  in  the  movement  which  created  the 
Irish  Literary  Society,  that  Todhunter  turned  his 
attention  to  Ireland.  Later  he  was  one  of  the  Irish 
poets  with  W.  B.  Yeats,  Lionel  Johnson  and  T.  W. 
Rolleston,  who  joined  the  gatherings  at  the  "  Cheshire 
Cheese,"  and  shared  in  the  production  of  the  Book  of 
the  Rhymers''  Club. 

John  Todhunter's  first  book  of  verse  upon  Irish 
themes,  The  Banshee  and  other  Poems,  was  pub- 
lished in  1888,  and  was  dedicated  "To  Standish 
O'Grady,  whose  epic  History  of  Ireland  first  gave  me 
an  interest  in  our  bardic  tales."  This  is  probably  the 
earliest  public  record  of  the  position  of  O'Grady  in 
the  Revival,  and  it  expresses  the  obligation  not  only 
of  Todhunter,  but  of  all  the  Irish  poets  who  followed 
him.  It  is,  perhaps,  of  special  significance  coming 
from  one  whose  mind  had  been  moulded  by  very 
different  influences.  That  a  writer  whose  talent  had 
already  matured  should  have  been  influenced  by  the 


98    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Bardic  History  to  the  extent  of  discovering  in  himself 
an  entirely  new  vein  of  poetry,  is  no  slight  evidence 
of  the  fascination  exercised  by  O'Grady  upon  the 
poets  of  that  time.  In  Todhunter's  case  it  was 
hardly  to  be  expected  that  his  work  should  be  com- 
pletely transformed,  he  could  only  react  to  the  new 
stimulus  within  the  limits  permitted  by  previous 
formative  influences.  The  younger  men,  however, 
whose  minds  were  fresh,  succumbed  more  completely 
to  the  contact  with  this  epic  imagination. 

The  Banshee  and  other  Poems  is  undoubtedly  Tod- 
hunter's  most  successful  book  of  Irish  verse.  It  is 
the  most  important,  for  the  later  volume,  Three  Bardic 
Tales,  which  appeared  in  1896,  is  simply  a  reprint  of 
The  Doom  of  the  Children  of  Lir  and  The  Lamentation 
for  the  Three  Sons  of  Turann,  supplemented  by  the 
third  "sorrow  of  storytelling,"  The  Fate  of  the  Sons 
of  Usna.  In  their  last  form  these  poems  have  a 
homogeneity  that  was  absent  from  the  previous  col- 
lection. On  the  first  occasion  the  symmetry  and 
harmony  of  the  book  were  disturbed  by  the  addition 
of  "other  poems,"  mostly  of  a  commonplace,  English 
type,  whose  banality  only  added  to  the  incongruity 
of  their  appearance  in  such  surroundings.  Contrary 
to  what  would  appear  to  be  the  popular  assumption  of 
many  critics,  no  claim  has  ever  been  made  for  the 
perfection  of  Irish  verse  as  such.  It  is  merely  sug- 
gested that  Irish  poetry  should  be  Irish,  whether  it 
be  good  or  bad.  The  banal  poems  of  many  West 
British  Irishmen  are  exasperating  to  their  country- 
men, not  because  Irish  banality  is  superior  to  the 
English  variety,  but  because  the  latter,  in  the  work 
of  another  nation,  becomes  doubly  feeble  and 
imitative. 

The  finest  of  Todhunter's  Irish  poems  is  that  which 
gave  its  name  to  the  volume  of  1888.  The  Banshee, 


THE  REVIVAL  99 

though  less  ambitious  than  any  of  the  bardic  versions, 
together  with  the  verses  reprinted  from  Poems  and 
Ballads  of  Young  Ireland,  will  be  remembered  by 
many  who  have  failed  to  enjoy  the  poems  derived 
from  legendary  sources.  The  latter,  in  spite  of  occa- 
sional passages,  leave  the  reader  cold.  The  Three 
Bardic  Tales  correspond  in  substance  to  Hyde's 
Three  Sorrows  of  Storytelling,  which  dates  from  about 
the  same  time,  though  two  of  Todhunter's  versions 
were  published  before  Hyde's  little  book  appeared 
in  1895.  In  many  respects-  Hyde's  renderings  are 
more  pleasing  than  those  of  the  older  poet.  Tod- 
hunter's  rhymeless  alexandrine  quatrains  in  The 
Doom  of  the  Children  of  Lir  are,  for  example,  more 
tiresome  than  the  "orthodox  English  Iambics"  of 
Hyde's  poems  on  the  same  subject.  The  Fate  of  the 
Sons  of  Usna,  a  very  lengthy,  elaborate  treatment 
of  the  greatest  of  the  old  romances,  will  not  bear 
comparison  with  Ferguson's  less  complete  rendering 
of  the  Deirdre  saga,  nor  with  the  numerous  poems 
which  this  popular  theme  has  given  the  Revival. 
Here  again  Todhunter's  rejection  of  rhyme,  even  in 
the  lyrical  passages  with  which  the  narrative  is  in- 
terspersed, militates  against  the  enjoyment  of  the 
poem;  Deirdre's  Farewell  to  Alba  and  Lament  for  the 
Sons  of  Usna  are  infinitely  more  touching  in  Fer- 
guson than  in  Todhunter.  In  the  preface  to  The 
Banshee  the  author  was  able  to  claim  a  certain 
novelty  for  his  Lamentation  for  the  Sons  of  Turann. 
Of  the  "three  sorrows  of  storytelling"  this  has 
proved  the  least  attractive  to  the  Irish  poets,  and  in 
1888  Todhunter  was  the  first  to  make  it  the  subject 
of  a  poem  in  English.  When  he  reprinted  it,  how- 
ever, in  1896,  its  isolation  had  been  challenged  in 
the  previous  year  by  Douglas  Hyde's  volume  al- 
ready mentioned.  Like  the  Story  of  the  Children  of 


ioo   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Lir,  that  of  the  Children  of  Turann  belongs  to  the 
mythological  cycle,  and  is  separated  by  several 
hundred  years  from  the  heroic  cycle  of  which  Deirdre 
is  a  part.  Hyde  alone  among  the  poets  has  sought 
to  give  an  adequate  account  of  this  interesting 
my  thus.  He  relates  how  Lugh,  while  endeavouring 
to  free  the  Tuatha  De  Danaan  from  the  levies  of  the 
Formorians,  sent  his  father  to  his  death  at  the  hands 
of  the  three  sons  of  Turann.  Upon  the  latter  he 
therefore  imposed  an  eightfold  blood-fine,  or  eric, 
as  it  was  called,  six  parts  of  which  they  were  able  to 
obtain.  Lugh's  last  two  demands,  however,  they 
forgot,  because  of  a  spell  he  cast  upon  them.  Having 
secured  the  greater  part  of  the  ransom,  Lugh  sent 
the  three  to  fulfil  the  remaining  conditions,  and  in 
accomplishing  this  they  lost  their  lives.  Turann,  on 
learning  the  fate  of  his  sons,  made  a  great  lamenta- 
tion over  their  bodies  and  then  fell  dead  beside 
them.  While  Hyde  recounts  the  whole  story,  Tod- 
hunter  takes  it  up  at  the  point  where  the  father 
stands  by  the  corpses  of  his  sons.  His  poem  relates 
briefly  the  circumstances  of  their  death,  but  is  really 
an  elaborate  caoine  of  the  typical  Irish  kind.  That 
is  to  say,  it  is  typical  so  far  as  its  division  into  elegiac 
strophes  was  suggested  by  the  form  of  the  Ulster 
caoine,  and  in  its  recapitulation  of  the  life  and  virtues 
of  the  dead.  In  manner  and  spirit,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  poem  is  not  Celtic,  and  does  not  reach  the 
note  of  tragic  intensity  of  The  Coffin  Ship.  Here  the 
wail  of  the  mourner  is  caught  and  rendered  with 
fine  pathetic  realism. 

Todhunter's  greatest  success  has  been  in  these 
shorter  poems,  which  first  appeared  in  Poems  and 
Ballads  of  Young  Ireland.  His  versions  of  the  bardic 
tales,  though  they  testify  to  the  influence  of  O'Grady 
upon  the  literature  in  formation,  do  not  in  them- 


THE  REVIVAL; \ l:.l     : \ <(\  ior 

selves  constitute  a  very  notable  contribution  to 
Anglo-Irish  verse.  The  absence  of  rhyme  in  his^ 
lyrical  measures,  his  frequent  lapses  into  purely 
prosaic  diction,  are  defects  in  his  longer  poems  which 
are  not  compensated  by  the  occasional  lines  showing 
something  of  the  wild  energy  befitting  the  heroic 
stories.  This  lack  of  rhythm  is  all  the  more  notice- 
able in  a  poet  who  has  shown  himself  particularly 
susceptible  to  melody  and  has,  in  Sounds  and  Sweet 
Airs,  for  example,  transferred  into  verbal  music  the 
emotions  awakened  by  the  hearing  of  Chopin,  Bee- 
thoven and  other  composers.  The  fact  is  that  the 
last-mentioned  book  probably  represents  more  truly 
Todhunter's  poetic  faculty.  He  was  drawn  to  Ire- 
land too  late,  when  his  talent  had  already  ripened, 
and  he  could  not  break  away  from  the  influences  that 
had  moulded  him  during  fifty  years.  Although  he 
was  one  of  those  who  helped  to  make  the  Irish  Lit- 
erary Society,  his  participation  in  the  Literary  Re- 
vival was  deliberate  rather  than  instinctive.  In 
support  of  this,  it  is  only  necessary  to  observe  that 
since  the  publication  of  The  Banshee  in  1888  and  the 
creation  of  the  Literary  Societies  in  1892,  Tod- 
hunter's  work  has  not  been  related  to  Ireland  or 
inspired  by  the  Irish  spirit.  His  Life  of  Sarsfield  in 
1895  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  creative  literature, 
while  two  of  the  Three  Bardic  Tales  were  reprinted 
from  the  first  collection  of  Irish  poems,  and  the 
third,  though  not  published  in  1888,  dated  from 
that  time.  In  short,  once  the  first  inspiration  and 
enthusiasm  of  the  Revival  had  spent  themselves  in 
him,  Todhunter  reverted  to  the  tradition  in  which 
he  had  been  educated.  He  wrote  in  England  for 
the  English  public,  and  ceased  to  be  any  more  rep- 
resentative of  his  country  than  George  Bernard  Shaw, 
with  whom,  indeed,  he  shared  the  honours  in  1893, 


IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

when  The  Black  Cat  was  produced  by  the  Independ- 
ent Theatre  Society,  shortly  after  the  production  of 
Widowers'  Houses.  It  is  true  that  The  Land  of 
Hear? 's  Desire  was  performed  a  year  later  under 
the  same  auspices,  but  while  Yeats's  play  was 
Irish,  and  owed  its  appearance  in  England  to 
circumstances  which  the  Irish  National  Theatre 
has  since  altered,  Todhunter's  was  a  work  which 
naturally  called  for  the  attention  of  those  inter- 
ested in  fostering  English  literary  drama.  The 
one  play  was  transplanted,  the  other  was  in  its 
native  element. 

It  is  greatly  to  the  credit  of  Todhunter  that,  in 
spite  of  his  surroundings  and  training,  he  should 
have  understood  the  new  spirit  that  was  at  work  in 
Anglo-Irish  literature,  and  which  tended  to  elimi- 
nate the  Anglicised  Irish  poets  of  which  he  was  a  sur- 
vivor. He  might  easily  have  remained  indifferent, 
like  his  friend,  Professor  Dowden,  whose  abstention 
from  all  demonstrations  of  sympathy  was  open  to 
the  suspicion  of  parti  pris — a  suspicion  confirmed 
since  the  publication  of  his  correspondence.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  natural  than  that  Todhunter, 
like  Dowden,  should  have  become  imbued  with  the 
distrust  of  everything  un-English  in  Irish  life,  once 
so  prevalent  in  the  University  at  which  both  were 
educated.  Instead,  however,  of  boasting  that  he 
had  never  allowed  Irish  ideals  to  interfere  with  his 
devotion  to  those  of  England,  Todhunter  placed  him- 
self in  contact  with  the  stream  of  ideas  that  was 
flowing  into  Anglo-Irish  literature  from  the  very 
sources  of  national  culture.  He  did  not — he  could 
not — wholly  de-Anglicise  himself,  but  at  all  events 
he  succeeded  for  a  time  in  seeing  Ireland  with  the 
eyes  of  an  Irishman. 


THE  REVIVAL  103 

KATHARINE   TYNAN 

Very  different  were  the  results  of  the  influence 
exercised  by  the  Revival  upon  Katharine  Tynan. 
Although  one  of  the  youngest  of  those  who  collabo- 
rated in  Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young  Ireland,  she  was 
already  the  author  of  two  books  of  verse  which  had 
indicated  her  as  a  poet  of  more  than  average  promise. 
Seldom  has  the  first  effort  of  a  beginner  met  with 
such  encouragement  as  greeted  Katharine  Tynan's 
Louise  de  la  V oilier e  and  other  Poems  in  1885.  Until 
the  publication  of  this  little  volume,  the  author  was 
known  principally  to  the  literary  circles  in  Dublin 
where  the  new  spirit  was  stirring.  She  was  a  con- 
stant contributor  to  The  Irish  Monthly ',  a  review 
which,  in  the  Eighties  and  early  Nineties,  afforded 
an  opening  to  a  surprising  variety  of  Irish  poetry, 
from  semi-patriotic,  semi-devotional  verse,  of  a  very 
minor,  local  kind,  to  the  work  of  W.  B.  Yeats,  and 
even  of  Oscar  Wilde,  and  including  between  these 
extremes,  such  writers  as  Katharine  Tynan,  Alice 
Furlong  and  Rose  Kavanagh.  With  Louise  de  la 
Valliere,  Katharine  Tynan  attained  at  once  to  a 
popularity  which  she  has  never  ceased  to  enjoy,  but 
which  has  not  been  entirely  to  her  advantage. 

It  is  not  easy  to  understand  why  what  she  herself 
describes  as  a  "very-much  derived  little  volume" 
should  have  had  a  fate  so  different  from  that  of  the 
first  work  of  so  many  young  poets.  The  Dead  Spring, 
Joan  of  Arc,  King  Cophetua's  Queen  and  many  of 
the  other  poems,  are  obviously  inspired  by  the  Pre- 
Raphaelite  movement,  and  cannot  be  said  to  reveal 
anything  of  the  poet's  personality.  On  the  other 
hand,  two  sonnets  on  Fra  Angelico  at  Fiesole,  though 
perhaps  derived  from  the  same  source,  are  more 
characteristic  of  Katharine  Tynan's  later  manner. 


104   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

They  have  something  of  the  innocent  tenderness,  the 
devotional  sensitiveness  to  external  beauty  which  are 
associated  with  her  best  work.  These  elements  are 
more  clearly  present  in  such  a  poem  as  An  Answer, 
which,  in  its  absence  of  word-painting  after  Rossetti, 
foreshadows  more  precisely  the  style  of  much  of  her 
subsequent  poetry.  The  promise  of  this  volume 
would  have  been  imperfect,  however,  had  the  note  of 
nationality  been  absent.  Beautiful  as  are  some  of 
the  poems  already  mentioned,  they  could  not  have 
warranted  the  general  recognition  of  Katharine 
Tynan  as  the  singer  of  a  distinctively  Irish  song. 
The  Pre-Raphaelite  tinge  of  Louise  de  la  Valliere 
made  the  book  one  which  might  have  been  written 
by  a  young  disciple  of  Rossetti,  were  it  not  for  the 
five  poems — the  most  stirring  of  all — whose  theme 
was  patriotic  or  national.  The  best  of  all  these  is 
Waiting,  in  which  the  legend  is  related  of  Finn  and 
his  warriors,  who  lie  in  a  frozen  sleep  in  a  cavern 
of  the  Donegal  mountains  biding  the  time  when 
they  shall  come  forth  to  do  battle  for  Ireland,  at  the 
hour  of  her  redemption.  The  element  of  mystery 
is  here  combined  with  a  living  patriotism  which  give 
to  this  poem  a  thrill  of  reality  contrasting  with  the 
rather  imitative  echoes  of  the  verses  of  more  common^ 
place  inspiration.  The  lines  on  the  death  of  A.  M. 
Sullivan,  entitled  The  Dead  Patriot  and  The  Flight  of 
the  Wild  Geese,  though  less  remote  in  their  subjects, 
are  not  more  intensely  felt  than  this  poem  of  legend. 
They,  too,  are  infused  with  the  emotion  which  is 
necessary  to  the  creation  of  genuine  poetry. 

In  her  second  volume,  Shamrocks,  published  in 
1887,  we  find  Katharine  Tynan  occupied  more  fre- 
quently with  Celtic  themes.  The  first  and  longest 
poem,  The  Pursuit  of  Diarmuid  and  Grainne,  was 
one  of  the  earliest  attempts  to  make  use  of  the 


THE  REVIVAL  105 

Ossianic  material  in  Anglo-Irish  poetry.  Though 
it  is  spoiled  by  rather  conventional  diction,  there  are 
many  charming  pictures  which  give  to  it  an  interest 
other  than  that  necessarily  attaching  to  the  early 
poetry  derived  from  legendary  and  historical  sources. 
The  Story  of  Aibhric  and  The  Fate  of  King  Feargus 
also  witness  to  the  poet's  increased  attention  to 
Gaelic  subjects  since  the  publication  of  Louise  de  la 
Falliere.  The  religious  feeling  so  noticeable  in 
Katharine  Tynan's  work  comes  out  very  definitely 
in  this  volume.  S*.  Francis  to  the  Birds  is  one  of  her 
best  and  most  characteristic  impressions  of  that 
simple  piety  which  imbues  so  much  of  her  verse, 
and  has  again  and  again  drawn  her  to  the  gentle 
figure  of  Assisi.  Ballads  and  Lyrics,  which  followed 
in  1891,  contained  several  poems  relating  to  St. 
Francis,  but  none  of  these  is  superior  to  the  first. 
This  book,  however,  represents  more  adequately  all 
the  phases  of  the  poet's  talent,  and  shows  a  great 
advance  upon  its  predecessors.  There  is  a  more 
pronounced  individuality  in  this  work  than  hereto- 
fore, and  many  of  her  previous  themes  are  here 
rehandled  with  a  surer  touch.  The  opening  verses, 
The  Children  of  Lir,  are  far  superior  to  the  prelim- 
inary treatment  of  the  same  subject  in  The  Story  of 
Aibhric,  already  mentioned.  Christian  and  pagan 
folk-lore  are  the  basis  of  most  of  this  volume,  Our 
Lady's  Exile,  The  Hiding- Aw  ay  of  Blessed  Angus  9 
The  Fairy  Foster-Mother  and  The  Witch  are  typical 
poems  of  a  kind  Katharine  Tynan  has  familiarised 
in  many  later  books.  They  combine  those  two 
striking  traits  of  Irish  peasant  character:  an  un- 
limited faith  in  the  possibilities  of  witchcraft  together 
with  a  profound  belief  in  the  more  picturesque 
legends  of  Catholicism. 

Ballads  and  Lyrics  is  Katharine  Tynan's  most 


io6    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

representative,  and  probably  her  best  volume,  as  it 
is  certainly  that  which  bears  most  distinctly  the 
Celtic  imprint.  Cuckoo  Songs,  published  in  1894, 
suffers,  by  comparison,  owing  to  a  certain  monotony 
due  to  the  predominance  of  the  devotional  element, 
nor  did  the  author  recover  the  variety  of  Ballads  and 
Lyrics  in  the  four  years'  interval  that  preceded  the 
publication  of  The  Wind  in  the  Trees.  Here,  the 
sub-title,  "A  Book  of  Country  Verse,"  announced  a 
certain  limitation  of  scope.  The  entire  volume  is 
devoted  to  a  series  of  intimate  impressions  of  ex- 
ternal nature,  of  the  beauties  of  leaf  and  flower,  all 
conceived  in  the  vein  of  simple,  loving  admiration 
which  has  made  her  the  sympathetic  interpreter  of 
mediaeval  Catholicism.  In  spite  of  the  charm  of 
such  pictures  as  Leaves,  The  Grey  Mornings,  the 
volume  can  hardly  be  said  to  mark  any  progress, 
unless  it  be  in  a  more  careful  technique.  This  halt 
in  the  development  of  Katharine  Tynan's  talent 
may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  she  has  been  too  prolific 
for  one  whose  gift  is  manifestly  of  slender  propor- 
tions. Had  she  written  but  three  volumes,  they 
would  easily  have  held  the  best  of  her  inspiration. 
Using  the  word  in  its  best  sense,  we  may  describe  her 
as  an  essentially  minor  poet,  though  a  minor  poet  of 
the  first  rank.  Narrative  verse  was  not  her  forte  and 
she  abandoned  it  early  for  lighter  forms.  Her 
themes  have  constantly  been  those  of  minor  poetry, 
the  birds  and  flowers  of  the  countryside,  the  green 
fields  and  in  general  the  simpler  emotions  derived 
from  nature.  She  has  treated  these  subjects  with 
frequent  delicacy  and  skill,  and  to  them  she  owes 
her  greatest  successes.  Nevertheless,  she  has  con- 
tinued to  publish  regularly  books  of  this  unsophisti- 
cated verse,  each  resembling  its  predecessor,  alike  in 
form  and  content.  This  inability  to  understand  how 


THE  -REVIVAL  107 

rapidly  such  a  vein  becomes  exhausted  has  resulted 
in  the  swamping  of  much  good  work  by  such  volumes 
as  New  Poems,  to  mention  one  of  the  more  recent, 
where  there  is  hardly  a  line  that  could  not  have  been 
written  by  the  average  young  lady  and  gentleman 
with  a  facility  for  rhyme.  It  is  difficult,  when 
reading  her  later  verse,  to  remember  that  until  the 
arrival  of  W.  B.  Yeats,  Katharine  Tynan  was  held 
to  be  the  young  poet  of  the  greatest  promise  in  Ire- 
land. In  her  first  three  or  four  volumes  she  did 
respond  to  the  reasonable  hopes  which  were  rightly 
entertained  of  the  author  of  Louise  de  la  Falliere, 
even  though  she  could  never  wholly  justify  the 
laudatory  phrases  with  which  that  little  book  was 
received. 

If  her  poetry  has  suffered  by  being  subjected  to 
the  same  exploitation  as  her  prose,  Katharine  Tynan 
is  none  the  less  an  interesting  figure  in  contemporary 
literature.  She  is  almost  unique  in  that  she  is  the 
only  writer  of  any  importance  whose  Catholicism 
has  found  literary  expression.  Reference  has  pre- 
viously been  made  to  the  famous  discussion  of  Oisin 
and  St.  Patrick,  the  clash  of  Paganism  and  Chris- 
tianity, and  to  the  fact  that  the  Irish  poets  have 
almost  unanimously  declared  themselves  on  the  side 
of  the  former.  It  is  certainly  remarkable  how  com- 
pletely the  better  Catholic  writers  have  effaced  their 
religion  from  their  work.  That  is  not  to  say  they 
have  deliberately  suppressed  their  beliefs,  or  that 
the  others  have  openly  declared  their  hostility  to 
the  Catholic  Church.  The  fact  is  simply  that  one 
class  has  been  frankly  pagan,  and,  as  a  rule,  mystic, 
while  the  other  has  in  no  way  been  inspired  or  in- 
fluenced by  the  teaching  to  which  it  assents.  It  is 
significant,  for  example,  that  so  precious  an  anthology 
of  Catholic  folk-poetry  as  The  Religious  Songs  of 


io8   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Connacht  should  have  been  compiled  by  a  Prot- 
estant. One  would  naturally  expect  that  a  task 
of  this  kind  would  have  appealed  to  one  of  the 
Catholic  poets,  whose  identity  of  belief  and  sym- 
pathy would  specially  qualify  him  to  act  as  an 
interpreter.  But  apart  from  the  most  minor  poets, 
Katharine  Tynan  alone  reflects  that  attitude  of 
Catholic  Ireland  in  her  verse.  Outside  of  Ireland, 
Catholicism  has  been  an  aesthetic  influence.  Conti- 
nental critics  have  come  to  regard  the  Catholic 
Church  as  a  fosterer  of  the  arts,  and  many  ingenious 
conclusions  have  been  drawn  from  the  contrast 
between  the  artistic  imaginativeness  of  the  Latin 
and  Catholic  races,  and  the  joyless  materialism  and 
ugliness  of  the  Teutonic  and  Protestant  countries. 
France,  especially,  has  afforded  interesting  instances 
of  the  intimate  artistic  relations  between  the  Catholic 
Church  and  literature.  The  French  Protestant  has 
invariably  a  certain  heaviness,  a  lack  of  suppleness 
and  vivacity  which  distinguish  his  writing  from  that 
of  the  majority  who  are  untouched  by  the  Lutheran 
heresy. 

Ireland  presents  a  problem  for  the  champions  of 
neo-Catholicism,  for  there  they  will  find  little  to 
support  their  enthusiasm  for  the  older  Church,  as  a 
refuge  from  the  democratic  mediocrity,  and  intol- 
erant freedom,  of  the  most  Protestant  sections  of 
Protestantism.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  a 
Huysmans  or  a  Verlaine  being  converted  to  Irish 
Catholicism.  The  "grands  convertis"  had  a  con- 
ception of  religion  entirely  remote  from  the  phil- 
osophy of  Catholic  Ireland,  whose  artistically  barren 
soil  could  never  produce  a  Chartres  Cathedral,  while 
its  inhabitants  would  view  with  horror  such  a  "con- 
vert" as  the  author  of  La  Cathedrale.  Irish  ecclesi- 
astical architecture  is,  as  a  rule,  as  unrelievedly 


THE  REVIVAL  109 

dull  as  that  which  we  associate  with  the  extremer 
forms  of  Protestantism. 

The  externals  of  Irish  life  immediately  demonstrate  ~ 
how  slight  is  the  artistic  influence  of  Catholicism  in 
Ireland.  Irish  Catholics  have  none  of  the  easy  toler- 
ance and  freedom  of  religious  majorities  elsewhere, 
but  have  the  narrowness  and  hardness  of  a  small  sect. 
All  the  repressive  measures  of  puritanism  are  heartily 
enforced,  in  emulation  of  the  eiforts  of  the  Protestant 
minority.  In  short,  the  Protestantism  of  the  Irish 
Catholic  is  such  as  to  deprive  the  Church  of  pre- 
cisely those  elements  which  are  favourable  to  literary 
and  intellectual  development,  and  have  rallied  so 
many  artists  to  her  support.  Nor  have  those  pe- 
culiar qualities  of  genuine  Protestantism  been  sub- 
stituted, to  which  the  Northern  races  owe  their  most 
characteristic  virtues.  As  a  result,  the  Catholic 
Irishman  does  not  find  in  his  religion  the  spiritual 
emotion  and  the  aesthetic  stimulant  necessary  to  the 
creation  of  a  work  of  art.  Consequently,  his  inspir- 
ation has  been  drawn  from  sources  independent  of  his 
religious  beliefs. 

The  foregoing  may  seem  to  preclude  the  possibility 
of  there  being  even  one  truly  Catholic  poet,  and  to  be 
completely  disproved  by  the  existence  of  such  an 
anthology  as  The  Religious  Songs  of  Connacht.  The 
contradiction  is,  however,  more  apparent  than  real; 
the  old  antagonism  of  bard  and  saint,  of  which  the 
historians  have  written,  still  lingers  obscurely  in  Ire- 
land, and  it  has  been  seriously  contended  that  the 
Catholic  Church  is  an  exotic.  Nevertheless  the 
people,  and  more  particularly  the  peasantry,  have 
associated  the  bardic  divinities  and  heroes  with  the 
saints  and  wonders  of  Christianity.  Sacred  and  pro- 
fane legends  have  become  so  identical  a  part  of  the 
belief  of  the  rural  population  that  the  one  has  in- 


no   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

fused  the  other  with  a  certain  breath  of  poetry.  In 
the  large  cities  a  deliberate  effort  has  been  made  to 
find  a  spiritual  background  for  Irish  life,  and,  as 
we  shall  see  in  a  later  chapter,  with  most  interesting 
results.  In  the  country  towns,  unfortunately,  this 
has  not  been  the  case,  and  the  spiritual  death  that 
hangs  over  them  is  obviously  due  in  part  to  this 
failure  of  Catholicism  to  become  properly  assimi- 
lated. In  the  remoter  Irish-speaking  districts,  how- 
ever, what  was  conscious  in  the  cities  has  been 
instinctive,  and  a  certain  folk-poetry  has  grown  up. 
The  presence  of  the  Gaelic  language  guaranteed  the 
survival  of  the  bardic  tradition,  and  the  heroic  fig- 
ures of  antiquity  naturally  amalgamated  with  those 
of  sacred  history.  Where  the  Celtic  flame  had  not 
been  extinguished  poetry  was  possible.  The  ancient 
tongue  had  the  associations  lacking  in  the  speech  of 
the  provincial  towns,  and  only  recovered  by  the 
concerted  move  of  a  few  more  cultivated  groups  in 
the  cities.  The  latter,  being  more  deliberate,  were 
naturally  more  radical  in  their  return  to  the  origins 
of  nationality  and  of  national  literature,  and  quickly 
dissociated  the  fundamental  traits  of  the  Celtic 
spirit  from  the  extraneous  agglomerations  of  Cathol- 
icism. Hence  on  the  one  hand,  The  Religious  Songs 
of  Connacht,  and  on  the  other,  the  poetry  of  A.  E., 
W.  B.  Yeats  and  the  writers  associated  with  them. 

Katharine  Tynan,  though  also  associated,  to  some 
extent,  with  the  group  of  poets  last  mentioned,  re- 
mained uninfluenced  by  the  revolt  which  led  them 
to  the  very  sources  of  Celtic  spirituality.  She  re- 
mained undisturbed  in  her  acceptation  of  the  simple 
teaching  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and  it  is  just  in  so 
far  as  she  approximates  to  the  attitude  of  the  coun- 
try people  that  she  is  a  Catholic  poet.  One  does  not 
find  her  expressing  the  profounder  aspects  of  Cathol- 


THE  REVIVAL  in 

icism,  the  exaltation  and  rapture  of  belief,  for 
these  belong  to  a  more  emotional  and  intellectuaj 
religion  than  that  of  the  Irish  Catholic.  In  Ireland 
the  folk-lore  conception  of  Catholicism  is  the  most 
prevalent,  as  they  know  who  have  essayed  to  raise 
the  theological  level  to  that  of  France  or  Italy. 
Modernism  is  a  problem  which  we  have  not  yet 
faced.  In  the  realm  of  folk-lore,  at  all  events,  is  wit- 
nessed a  certain  reconciliation  of  the  antagonistic 
bardic  and  Christian  elements.  Katharine  Tynan's 
verse,  therefore,  voices  that  naive  faith,  that  com- 
plete surrender  to  the  simpler  emotions  of  wonder 
and  pity,  which  characterise  the  religious  experiences 
of  the  plain  man. 

Her  delight  in  St.  Francis  is  typical  of  her  general 
manner.  She  never  touches  the  speculative  depths 
of  such  Catholics  as  Pascal,  the  doubts  and  ecstasies 
of  the  great  believers  are  not  hers.  She  sees  nature 
with  the  eyes  of  devout  reverence,  and  in  her  tender 
descriptions  of  all  the  small  creatures  of  God,  her 
love  for  the  old  or  the  helpless,  she  excels  in  convey- 
ing a  sense  of  child-like  admiration  for  and  confi- 
dence in  the  works  of  an  Almighty  Power.  Her 
Rhymed  Life  of  St.  Patrick  accurately  reproduces  the 
popular  view  of  the  saint,  widely  different  as  that  is 
from  the  facts.  The  little  book  of  six  miracle  plays 
published  in  1895  is  another  of  her  best-known  works 
devoted  entirely  to  religious  subjects.  Here,  how- 
ever, there  is  a  rather  too  careful  simplicity,  giving 
an  air  of  artificiality  not  usual,  for  spontaneity  is  a 
noticeable  feature  of  her  devotional  outpourings. 
But  it  must  be  said  that  here  also  she  has  failed  to 
exercise  any  restraint.  Her  numerous  contributions 
to  magazines  of  piety  are  rarely  suitable  for  republi- 
cation.  The  devotional  side  of  Katharine  Tynan's 
work  is  quite  adequately  represented  by  a  selection 


ii2   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

from  her  religious  verse,  such  as  that  which  has 
recently  appeared  under  the  title,  The  Flower  of 
Peace. 

Interesting  though  she  may  be  as  the  only  import- 
ant Catholic  poet  in  Ireland,  Katharine  Tynan  will 
hardly  rank  with  the  best  writers  of  the  Literary 
Revival.  For  the  reasons  we  have  seen,  Irish 
Catholicism  is  necessarily  a  shallow  vein  of  inspira- 
tion, and  even  at  best,  it  has  not  created,  and  cannot 
create,  great  poetry.  In  the  special  circumstances 
just  described,  it  has  inspired  folk-poetry  that  has 
many  beauties,  but  the  power  of  The  Religious  Songs 
of  Connacht  loses  by  transposition.  There  is  more  of 
the  poetic  essence  in  Douglas  Hyde's  collection 
than  in  Katharine  Tynan's  many  volumes.  Never- 
theless, she  has  written  more  verse  than  any  of  her 
contemporaries,  with  the  possible  exception  of  W.  B. 
Yeats,  and  this,  notwithstanding  the  incredible  list 
of  fiction  with  which  she  has  endowed  the  circulating 
libraries.  In  Yeats's  case  the  volume  of  writing  is 
distributed  over  a  wide  range  of  subject  and  has 
been  constantly  revised.  When  Katharine  Tynan, 
with  a  fraction  of  the  poetic  material,  has  spread  it 
over  so  many  pages,  it  is  not  surprising  her  work 
should  be  thin.  Irish  Poems,  published  in  1913, 
contains  a  selection  from  the  best  of  her  more  recent 
poetry.  If  we  are  to  judge  her  by  this  volume,  we 
must  forget  all  the  inferior  verse,  all  the  book-making, 
which  is  doubtless  inevitable,  so  long  as  commercial- 
ism is  the  master  instead  of  the  servant  of  art.  This 
is  all  the  more  easy,  as  she  has  here  collected  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  beautiful  poems  to  ensure  her  re- 
membrance by  all  who  care  for  the  unassuming  songs 
of  a  poet  whose  voice  has  so  often  sung  the  fragrance 
of  the  country,  and  the  charm  of  natural  beauty. 


THE  REVIVAL  113 

T.    W.    ROLLESTON 

There  is  a  certain  similarity  between  the  position 
of  T.  W.  Rolleston  and  that  of  John  Todhunter  in 
the  history  of  the  Revival.  Both  were  already  well- 
known  in  a  different  sphere  of  literature  when  they 
joined  the  group  of  Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young 
Ireland,  and  neither  continued  very  long  to  write 
poetry  of  a  distinctively  Irish  character.  Like  Tod- 
hunter,  Rolleston  was  attracted  to  Irish  literature 
by  the  example  of  Standish  O'Grady,  although  he 
was  definitely  engaged  upon  work  of  a  very  different 
kind,  having  become  known  prior  to  1888,  as  a  critic 
of  Walt  Whitman  and  Epictetus.  He  did  not,  how- 
ever, publish  an  independent  volume  of  verse  until 
comparatively  recently,  when  Sea  Spray:  Verses 
and  Translations  appeared  in  1909.  While  it  con- 
tains some  of  Rolleston's  early  verse,  this  book  can 
hardly  be  described  as  a  typical  collection  of  modern 
Irish  poetry.  With  Todhunter  and  Yeats,  he  col- 
laborated in  both  series  of  The  Book  of  the  Rhymers9 
Club,  and  this  association  seems  to  have  Anglicised  his 
verse  as  effectively  as  it  did  that  of  Todhunter,  for, 
of  the  Irish  poets  who  met  at  the  "  Cheshire  Cheese," 
Yeats  alone  preserved  his  national  identity. 

The  Dead  at  Clanmacnois  and  The  Grave  of  Rury 
are  poems  which  awake  a  regret  that  their  author 
should  have  so  soon  forsaken  Celtic  sources,  but  it  is 
certainly  better  that  he  should  have  done  so,  than 
have  continued  to  write  when  the  freshness  of  in- 
spiration had  left  him.  He  has  preferred  to  give  the 
anthologists  a  few  verses  whose  charm  is  undeniable 
rather  than  to  submerge  his  talent  in  a  mass  of  feeble 
poetry.  It  is  as  a  prose  writer  that  he  has  rendered 
most  service  to  the  literature  of  his  country,  which  is 
indebted  to  him  for  Imagination  and  Art  in  Gaelic 


ii4   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Literature  (1900),  The  High  Deeds  of  Finn  and  Myths 
and  Legends  of  the  Celtic  Race  (1911).  For  the  pres- 
ent we  may  note  that  Rolleston's  failure  to  realise 
such  hopes  as  were  raised  by  his  contributions  to 
Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young  Ireland  does  not  in  any 
way  lessen  the  value  of  his  work  at  this  early  period. 
He  worked  energetically  with  those  who  created  the 
Irish  Literary  Society,  of  which  he  was  the  first 
Secretary,  and  whose  success  was  due  in  a  great 
measure  to  his  help. 

At  an  earlier  date  he  had  established  a  claim  upon 
lovers  of  Irish  poetry  by  his  editorship  of  The  Dublin 
University  Review.  He  was  responsible  for  the 
growth  of  that  periodical  into  something  very'  differ- 
ent from  what  might  have  been  expected  from  its 
title.  The  review,  however,  was  not  connected 
with  the  institution  after  which  it  was  named,  and 
became,  in  Rolleston's  hands,  a  centre  of  national 
ideas  and  Irish  culture.  These  pages  saw  the  pub- 
lication of  the  first  important  poems  of  W.  B.  Yeats, 
The  Island  of  Statues  in  1885  and  Mosada,  the  fol- 
lowing year,  in  addition  to  several  shorter  poems 
by  the  same  writer.  The  Dublin  University  Review 
died  shortly  afterwards  of  that  pecuniary  malnutrition 
which  has  so  often  been  the  lot  of  Irish  reviews, 
however  well  nourished  they  may  have  been  in- 
tellectually. In  the  present  instance  Rolleston  was 
able  to  face  extinction  in  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  he  had  done  well  by  the  new  literature  in  Ire- 
land. By  sheltering  the  work  of  W.  B.  Yeats  he 
assisted  the  Revival  more  materially  than  any 
original  effort  could  possibly  have  done.  Rolleston's 
work  about  this  time  was  not  confined  to  the  liter- 
ature of  the  future.  He  was  responsible  for  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  volume  of  Ellen  O'Leary's  poems,  and 
also  a  selection  from  the  work  of  Thomas  Davis, 


THE  REVIVAL  115 

which  has  been  re-issued  in  more  elaborate  form,  as 
one  of  the  recently  instituted  series,  "Every  Irish- 
man's Library."  In  thus  rendering  accessible  some 
of  the  better  work  of  the  older  school  he  increased 
the  obligation  of  Irish  readers  to  his  editorial  activi- 
ties. It  is,  therefore,  for  his  practical  and  critical 
services  that  he  is  remembered  in  the  history  of  the 
Irish  Literary  Revival.  As  joint  editor  of  the 
Treasury  of  Irish  Poetry  he  has  helped  to  produce  an 
Anthology  which  is  still  indispensable  to  the  study 
of  Anglo-Irish  literature.  Since  its  publication  in 
1900  our  poetic  "treasury"  has  been  enriched  by 
many  new  names.  But  were  a  new,  enlarged,  edition 
to  be  brought  out,  this  book  would^~strengthen  a 
position  as  yet  unchallenged  by  any  of  the  numerous 
collections  of  Irish  poetry  that  have  followed  it. 


WILLIAM   LARMINIE 

Although  he  did  not  contribute  to  Poems  and  Bal- 
lads of  Young  Ireland,  William  Larminie  may  be 
counted  as  one  of  those  early  poets  whom  we  have  de- 
scribed as  the  vanguard  of  the  Revival.  Glanlua  and 
other  Poems  appeared  in  1889,  a  date  marking,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  beginnings  of  modern  Irish  poetry. 
Larminie  was  unlike  the  contemporary  poets  we  have 
mentioned  in  that  he  neither  belonged  to  the  young 
generation  of  Katharine  Tynan  and  W.  B.  Yeats, 
nor  had  he  the  literary  experience  of  Todhunter  or 
Rolleston,  to  whom  his  years  approximated  him.  He 
began  to  write  at  an  age  considerably  in  advance  of 
that  of  the  other  beginners,  for  he  was  forty  when 
Glanlua  was  published.  This  fact  is  a  testimony 
to  the  potency  of  the  influences  that  stirred  the  in- 
tellectual waters  of  Ireland  during  the  early  years  of 
the  Revival.  Todhunter  furnished  us  with  an  in- 


n6   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

stance  of  an  older  writer  having  been  led  to  alter 
both  the  form  and  content  of  his  work  by  the  spell 
of  nationality.  Larminie,  however,  is  more  inter- 
esting, inasmuch  as  he  seems  to  have  discovered 
himself  in  the  general  literary  awakening  of  the  time. 
It  was,  perhaps,  not  easy  for  a  writer  of  some  ma- 
turity like  Todhunter  to  cultivate  a  new  style,  and 
to  abandon,  even  temporarily,  the  traditions  he  had 
followed  with  success.  It  must  have  been  even 
more  difficult  for  Larminie  to  answer  suddenly  the 
call  to  letters. 

What  was  re-creation  in  Todhunter  was  a  veritable 
creation  in  Larminie,  whose  literary  faculties  had 
lain  dormant.  This  quickening  of  the  poetic  spirit 
was  due,  once  again,  to  the  revelation  of  bardic  lit- 
erature. Larminie's  verse  is  informed  throughout 
by  the  Celtic  spirit  of  legend  and  mysticism,  and 
few  of  his  poems  find  their  inspiration  outside  of  Ire- 
land. The  title-poem  of  his  second  volume,  Fand 
and  other  Poems,  published  in  1892,  was,  like  Glanlua, 
derived  from  the  history  of  the  Red  Branch.  While 
the  former  book  contained  only  three  poems  in  addi- 
tion to  Glanlua,  the  latter  is  more  substantial,  and 
more  representative  of  the  author's  talent.  Besides 
Fand,  it  contains  Moytura,  equally  based  upon  bardic 
material,  and  Larminie's  most  ambitious  effort. 
Unlike  the  younger  poets  of  the  time,  he  was  at- 
tracted to  narrative  rather  than  lyric  poetry,  for 
the  bulk  of  his  verse  is  contained  in  the  three  long 
poems  named,  Glanlua,  Fand  and  Moytura.  At 
the  same  time  he  has  written  some  lyrics  of  great 
charm;  Sunset  at  Malinmore,  Consolation  and  The 
Finding  of  Hy  Brasil  may  be  cited  amongst  the  best 
of  the  very  few  shorter  poems  Larminie  has  left. 

Fand  and  Moytura  possess  an  interest  for  the  stu- 
dent of  Anglo-Irish  poetry  not  shared  by  Glanlua. 


THE  REVIVAL  117 

While  the  latter  is  written  in  regular  rhymed  verse, 
the  former  are  in  the  nature  of  a  metrical  experiment. 
Larminie  had  devoted  some  time  to  the  study  of  the 
development  of  metrics  and,  although  it  was  not 
until  a  couple  of  years  later  that  he  publicly  formu- 
lated his  theory,  he  experimented  in  this  volume  of 
1892.  Briefly  his  contention  was  that  assonance, 
being  prior  to  rhyme,  as  is  evident  from  early  Gaelic 
poetry,  might  be  substituted,  especially  where  the 
rhyme  is  either  purely  visual  or  inaudible.  In  Fand 
and  other  Poems  assonance  is  systematically  em- 
ployed, in  both  regular  and  irregular  forms.  This 
tradition  of  Gaelic  literature  has  left  its  mark  upon 
the  verse  of  many  living  Irish  poets.  Whether  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  the  work  of  W.  B.  Yeats 
and  A.  E.  is  frequently  assonantal,  but  Larminie  is 
the  only  poet,  apart  from  the  translators,  who 
deliberately  had  recourse  to  this  form.  It  is  not 
merely  occasionally,  but  throughout  an  entire  vol- 
ume, that  he  uses  assonance. 

The  experimental  character  of  his  verse  undoubt- 
edly contributed  to  his  failure  to  secure  popular 
recognition.  The  story  of  Cuchulain  and  Fand, 
which  corresponds  and  contrasts  so  interestingly 
with  the  legend  of  Venus  and  Tannhauser,  is  a  theme 
which  should  naturally  engage  the  attention  of  a 
poet  sensible  of  the  beauties  of  Celtic  literature.  In 
Fand,  Larminie  handled  the  subject  with  great  sym- 
pathy, but  the  irregularity  of  his  verse  precluded  him 
from  reaching  the  imagination  of  the  general  public. 
Moytura  similarly  was  limited  in  its  effectiveness, 
though  to  a  lesser  extent,  by  the  strangeness  of  its 
forms.  Here  the  great  struggle  between  the  Tuatha 
de  Danaan  and  the  Formorians  lends  itself  more 
easily  to  popular  treatment.  There  are  more  oppor- 
tunities for  achieving  those  effects  of  language,  those 


ii8   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

pictures  evoked  by  words  full  of  colour  and  music, 
which  are  generally  held  to  constitute  poetry.  This 
legendary  battle  of  the  Celtic  deities,  symbolising 
the  victory  over  darkness  of  the  powers  of  light,  is 
unfolded  in  a  narrative  of  great  imaginative  strength. 
The  reader  is  caught  by  an  excitement  which  enables 
him  to  forget  the  unfamiliar  metres,  elsewhere  more 
noticeable,  because  unrelieved  by  any  verbal  charm. 

Without  subcribing  to  Verlaine's  "de  la  musique 
avant  toute  chose"  we  may  reasonably  demand  that 
poetry  possess  some  musical  quality.  The  frequent 
error  of  mistaking  mere  sound  for  poetic  beauty 
springs  from  the  just  and  instinctive  belief  that  verse 
should  strike  the  ear  by  some  obvious,  artistic  quality 
absent  from  prose.  It  is  claimed  for  English  poetry 
that  it  does  not  rely  upon  the  ear  for  its  effects,  but 
is  addressed  primarily  to  the  mind  and  to  the  spirit. 
This  seems  to  be  the  point  of  departure  of  that  criti- 
cism which  constantly  assures  us  of  the  superiority 
of  English  over  French  verse.  The^superstition  that 
French  is  the  language  of  prose,  and  English  the 
language  of  poetry,  has  gained  wide  acceptance  from 
the  authority  of  Matthew  Arnold.  His  well-known 
dictum  has  been  repeated  by  all  English-speaking 
critics  of  French  poetry,  although  it  was  a  generalisa- 
tion as  hasty  as  that  in  which  he  belauded  the  excel- 
lence of  the  so-called  "journeyman  work  of  litera- 
ture" in  France. 

Arnold's  theory  regarding  French  poetry  has  no 
apparent  basis  beyond  the  fact  that  the  latter  must 
be,  above  all  things,  musical;  no  elevation  of  thought, 
nor  depth  of  spirituality  being  sufficient  to  make 
inharmonious  verse  pass  for  poetry.  Because  of 
the  manifest  beauties  of  French  prose  Arnold  as- 
sumes it  must  be  the  medium  in  which  the  French 
language  attains  its  highest  achievements.  But  the 


THE  REVIVAL  119 

prose  of  France  is  the  direct  outcome  of  her  verse, 
the  beauty  of  Pascal  being  intimately  related  to  the 
beauty  of  Racine.  It  is  strange,  moreover,  that 
Arnold's  generalisation  has  been  accepted  precisely 
by  those  who  hold  that  the  English  Bible  is  unique. 
The  existence  of  the  Authorised  Verson  is  surely  an 
external  vindication  of  the  claims  of  English  prose, 
and  a  fundamental  invalidation  of  Arnold's  theory. 
In  the  absence  of  any  French  prose  surpassing  that 
of  the  Bible  a  doubt  is  permissible  as  to  the  neces- 
sary inequality  of  the  claims  of  English  and  French 
poetry. 

This  digression  has  not  led  us  as  far  away  from  our 
subject  as  may  appear,  for  Larminie  supplies,  in  a 
minor  way,  an  illustration  of  the  point  at  issue.  If  a 
philosophy  and  a  spiritual  message  are  more  essen- 
tial to  poetry ^than  verbal  music,  then  the  author  of 
Moytura  should  have  secured  the  attention  bestowed 
upon  his  contemporaries.  It  would  be  wrong  to 
suggest  that  he  lacks  charm,  for  few  will  deny,  once 
they  have  mastered  his  rhythms,  that  he  has  skill 
and  imagination  enough  to  hold  the  attention.  But 
by  no  means  can  he  be  described  as  a  master  of  fine 
language,  he  is  far  too  often  preoccupied  by  the 
thought  itself  to  elaborate  scrupulously  its  expression. 
There  is  a  dignity  and  elevation,  rather  than  beauty, 
in  his  verse,  while  its  originality  is  evident.  These 
qualities,  however,  were  inadequate  to  the  task  he 
had  undertaken,  and  to  which  he  probably  sacrificed 
a  measure  of  success.  In  order  to  impose  his  theory 
of  assonance  as  a  substitute  for  rhyme,  something 
more  was  required. 

Plausibly  as  he  argued,  in  The  Development  of 
English  Metres,  against  the  use  of  worn-out  or  use- 
less rhymes,  the  ultimate  test  of  his  case  was  his 
verse.  Could  he  in  practise  show  any  pleasing  and 


120   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

acceptable  improvement  upon  the  forms  he  wished 
to  displace?  Here,  unfortunately,  he  demonstrated, 
not  that  hackneyed  rhymes  were  desirable,  but  that 
disagreeable  assonance  was  not  preferable.  His  pro- 
posals might  have  had  more  success  had  they  come 
from  a  poet  skilled  in  the  use  of  language,  and  in 
command  of  a  perfect  technique.  Larminie's  poems 
lack  artistry,  they  are  often  harsh,  and  while  their 
spiritual  worth  attracts,  their  form  repels.  It  is, 
nevertheless,  an  interesting  commentary  upon  the 
alleged  English  predilection  for  substance  rather 
than  form  in  poetry  that,  when  the  essentially  musi- 
cal, unreflective  work  of  many  contemporary  Irish 
poets  was  greeted  in  England  with  enthusiasm,  Lar- 
minie  was  hardly  known  outside  his  own  country. 

An  early  death  prevented  Larminie  from  realising 
his  literary  powers  to  their  full  extent.  Whether 
he  would  have  continued  to  write  verse,  and  ulti- 
mately have  given  us  a  volume  of  poetry  adequately 
representative  of  its  legendary  sources,  must  remain 
a  matter  of  conjecture.  Reference  has  been  made 
in  a  former  chapter  to  his  West  Irish  Folk  Tales  and 
Romances,  a  work  which  shows  how  deep  was  his 
interest  in  the  remnants  of  Ireland's  Gaelic  heritage. 
A  poet  who  added  a  wide  acquaintance  with  the  Irish 
language  to  the  living  Celtic  tradition  preserved 
in  it,  clearly  enjoyed  an  advantage  shared  by  none 
of  his  contemporaries.  Here,  if  ever,  was  a  combina- 
tion that  might  have  given  Anglo-Irish  literature 
an  epic.  But  indications  seem  to  point  to  a  deter- 
mination in  Larminie  to  forsake  poetry.  His  first 
prose  work,  above  referred  to,  was  published  in 
!893,  a  year  after  Fand,  and  from  that  date  until 
his  death  in  1900,  he  was  engaged  principally  in 
critical  work.  This  changed  activity  during  the  last 
years  of  his  life,  having  regard  to  the  fact  that  he 


THE  REVIVAL  121 

died  leaving  an  unfinished  study  of  Scotus  Erigena, 
suggests  that  he  intended  to  seek  in  prose  the  success 
his  poetry  had  denied  him.  In  sharp  contrast  to 
William  Larminie  stands  the  poet  who  now  claims 
attention  and  whose  first  important  volume,  The 
Wanderings  of  Oisin,  appeared  the  same  year  as 
Glanlua. 


CHAPTER  VI 
WILLIAM  BUTLER  YEATS:   THE  POEMS 

FOR  many  years  W.  B.  Yeats  was  the  most 
widely-known  name  in  contemporary  Irish 
literature,  and  it  was  not  until  the  success 
of  J.  M.  Synge  that  his  predominance  was 
challenged.  Even  then,  however,  the  great  differ- 
ence in  the  work  and  manner  of  the  two  writers  re- 
sulted in  there  being  but  a  slight  modification  in  the 
popular  estimate  of  Yeats's  importance.  To  many 
people  he  was,  and  is,  synonymous  with  the  Irish 
Literary  Revival,  of  which  they  believe  him  to  be 
the  beginning  and  the  end.  As  we  have  seen,  not 
Yeats,  but  O'Grady,  was  the  beginning  of  the  Re- 
vival, and,  as  will  be  shown,  very  little  of  the  work 
done  by  Irish  writers  during  the  past  decade,  or 
more,  is  traceable  to  the  former.  In  attempting  to 
delimit  the  influence  of  Yeats  there  is  no  intention 
to  belittle  what  he  has  done,  nor  to  deny  that  such 
an  influence  exists.  He  has  certainly  affected  the 
course  of  the  Revival,  more  especially  in  the  first 
years  of  its  existence,  and  is  mainly  responsible  for 
the  ultimate  development  of  the  Irish  Theatre,  but 
in  neither  instance  has  his  role  been  that  popularly 
attributed  to  him.  At  first  his  influence  upon  his 
contemporaries  was  undeniable.  He  induced  them 
to  abandon  their  politico-literary  idols,  and  his  own 
example  served  at  once  to  enforce  his  arguments. 
His  work  not  only  exposed  the  weakness  of  the  popu- 
lar models,  but  at  the  same  time  attracted  serious 

122 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  123 

attention  to  the  poetic  awakening  in  Ireland.  But 
this  direct  impulse  was  not  sufficiently  enduring  to 
substantiate  the  claim  that  all  our  modern  poetry 
comes  from  Yeats.  In  the  theatre  he  has  not  at  all 
moulded  the  form  of  Irish  drama,  for  his  plays  have 
found  no  imitators,  and  remain  separate  and  utterly 
distinct  from  the  work  of  the  other  playwrights. 
Nevertheless,  his  presence  has  been  a  factor  of  some 
weight  in  the  evolution  of  the  Revival.  Poet, 
dramatist,  storyteller  and  essayist,  he  commands 
attention  in  almost  every  department  of  literature, 
and  the  mere  bulk  and  diversity  of  his  writings, 
apart  from  their  intrinsic  excellencies,  are  sufficient 
to  ensure  him  a  position  of  the  first  importance  in  any 
survey  of  Ireland's  literary  activities  during  the  past 
quarter  of  a  century.  But  he  began  as  a  poet,  and 
a  poet  he  remained  essentially  and  at  all  times.  His 
poetry  will,  therefore,  be  the  first  and  main  subject 
of  our  consideration,  for  by  that  his  position  must 
be  estimated  in  the  world  of  Irish  letters. 


LYRICAL   AND    NARRATIVE   POEMS 

It  is  only  necessary  to  compare  the  four  poems 
contributed  by  Yeats  to  Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young 
Ireland  with  those  of  his  collaborators,  to  realise  how 
vastly  superior  he  was  both  to  his  young  contem- 
poraries and  to  the  older  writers  represented.  The 
Madness  of  King  Goll  and  The  Stolen  Child,  the 
former  one  of  the  finest  poems  Yeats  has  written, 
show  a  remarkable  delicacy  and  maturity  of  crafts- 
manship in  a  young  man  of  twenty-two.  Their 
respective  themes,  drawn  from  legend  and  fairy 
lore,  presage,  moreover,  the  lines  along  which  the 
poet  developed  his  greatest  successes.  They  have 
that  glamour  and  sense  of  mysterious  reality  which 


124   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

are  peculiar  to  Yeats's  verse  at  its  best,  and  haunt 
the  memory  like  a  subtle,  intellectual  perfume.  The 
legend  of  King  Goll  is  one  which  the  poet  is  able  to 
interpret  in  the  spirit  of  true  Celtic  mysticism.  The 
old  king  who,  in  his  madness,  hears  the  voices  of 
superhuman  presences  in  the  crying  of  the  wind  and 
the  rolling  of  the  waters,  who  feels  the  breath  of  the 
elemental  powers,  and  the  tramping  feet  of  super- 
human beings — all  the  mystery  of  nature  as  sensed 
by  the  Celt  is  rendered  with  extraordinary  skill  and 
verbal  felicity.  The  refrain: 

"They  will  not  hush,  the  leaves  a-flutter  round  me,  the  beach 
leaves  old." 

is  not  easily  forgotten.  This  poem,  and  those  that 
accompanied  it,  are  the  true  forerunners  of  the 
poetry  which  has  established  the  position  of  W.  B. 
Yeats  in  contemporary  literature.  Their  publi- 
cation, however,  did  not  represent  the  first  appear- 
ance of  his  work  in  book  form.  Yeats  began  with 
Mosada,  a  twelve-page  brochure,  published  in  1886, 
but  neither  this,  nor  The  Island  of  Statues,  its  prede- 
cessor in  the  pages  of  the  Dublin  University  Review, 
can  be  regarded  as  announcing  the  poet  we  have 
come  to  know.  They  are  not  so  closely  related  to  his 
maturer  and  characteristic  work  as  the  contribu- 
tions to  Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young  Ireland.  They 
were  written  while  the  poet  was  still  searching  for 
the  direction  in  which  lay  the  finest  flowering  of  his 
talent.  "When  I  first  wrote,"  he  says,  "I  went  here 
and  there  for  my  subjects  as  my  reading  led  me,  and 
preferred  to  all  other  countries  Arcadia  and  the  India 
of  romance."  To  this  period  of  uncertainty  belong 
The  Island  of  Statues,  Mosada,  and  The  Seeker,  three 
poems  which  have  not  been  included  in  any  volume 
of  Yeats's  collected  works  since  1889,  when  he  re- 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  125 

published  them  in  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin.  They 
were  written  at  a  time  when  the  poet  had  not^yet 
realised  that  Ireland  was  to  be  the  source  from 
which  he  would  derive  his  surest  inspiration.  Neither 
the  mediaeval  Spain  of  Mosada,  nor  the  Arcady 
of  The  Island  of  Statues,  gave  him  the  setting  and 
atmosphere  in  which  his  genius  could  find  its  char- 
acteristic expression.  Yeats  was  still  too  young 
to  shake  off  the  domination  of  Spenser  and  Shelley, 
whom  he  admired  so  deeply  that  he  had  to  complain 
of  his  verses  being  "too  full  of  the  reds  and  yellows 
Shelley  gathered  in  Italy."  Hence  we  find  Ire- 
land completely  absent  from  these  early  poems, 
though  their  themes  were  not  such  as  to  preclude 
the  hope  of  finding  equivalents  in  the  world  of  Irish 
romance.  It  is  to  the  best  of  the  three,  The  Island  of 
Statues,  that  he  probably  alluded  when  he  said:  "I 
had  read  Shelley  and  Spenser,  and  had  tried  to  mix 
their  styles  together  in  a  pastoral  play  which  I  have 
not  come  to  dislike  much."  This  "Arcadian  Faery 
Tale  in  Two  Acts,"  with  its  reminiscences  of  Shelley, 
and  its  Spenserian  mould,  certainly  corresponds  to 
Yeats's  reference.  In  spite  of  this  frank  admission 
of  imitation,  an  imitation  which  would  in  any  case 
be  expected  in  a  young  writer  of  nineteen  years,  The 
Island  of  Statues  is  far  from  being  weakly  imitative. 
It  has  an  originality  which  is  not  weakened  by  the 
poet's  consciousness  of  his  models,  and  which 
indicates  undoubted  power.  As  has  been  stated,  this 
early  work  does  not  reveal  the  poet  we  now  know 
Yeats  to  be.  That  is  to  say,  the  national  element 
is  not  pronounced  in  the  three  poems,  which  date 
from  a  time  when  he  was  as  yet  uncertain  of  the 
direction  to  which  he  should  turn.  The  statement 
obviously  does  not  imply  that  it  is  impossible  to 
recognise  in  Mosada,  or  its  predecessors,  the  author 


126   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

of  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin.  His  first  verses  have 
many  qualities  in  common  with  those  of  later  years; 
the  differences  are  of  degree  and  of  subject,  rather 
than  of  manner  and  form.  They  have,  above  all, 
that  music  and  beauty  which  were  ultimately  so 
exquisitely  heightened  when  the  voice  of  Celtic  Ire- 
land sang  in  his  verse: 

Thou  shalt  outlive  thine  amorous  happy  time, 

And  dead  as  are  the  lovers  of  old  rime 

Shall  be  the  hunter-lover  of  thy  youth. 

Yet  ever  more,  through  all  thy  days  of  ruth, 

Shall  grow  thy  beauty  and  dreamless  truth 

Such  lines  as  these  bear  the  imprint  of  the  spirit  by 
which  Yeats's  best  work  is  informed.  But  the  only 
part  of  The  Island  of  Statues  that  he  has  preserved 
is  that  little  lyric  The  Cloak,  the  Boat  and  the  Shoes, 
and  even  this  he  has  slightly  emended,  with  that 
fastidiousness  which  has  prevented  him  from  reprint- 
ing many  of  his  early  poems,  and  has  effected  such 
great  changes  in  the  later  editions  of  all  his  works. 

When,  after  four  years  of  poetical  activity,  Yeats 
offered  his  first  collection  of  verse  to  the  public,  in 
1889,  he  was  evidently  progressing  towards  the  real- 
isation of  his  powers.  Both  in  choice  of  subject  and 
in  style  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin  and  other  Poems 
marks  an  advance  sufficient  to  warrant  its  being 
described  as  a  representative  volume.  In  essence 
most  of  his  later  work  is  here,  and,  as  the  book  con- 
tained all  his  poetry  up  to  that  date,  it  is  usually 
regarded  as  the  beginning  of  W.  B.  Yeats.  It  has, 
indeed,  been  made  by  many  the  point  of  departure 
of  the  Revival,  but  there  is  evidence  that  this  is  not 
the  case.  Granted  that  Standish  O'Grady  is  the 
source,  it  will  easily  be  seen  that  The  Wanderings  of 
Oisin  was  not  the  first  stream  of  poetry  to  issue  from 
him.  Larminie's  Glanlua,  and  Todhunter's  Banshee 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  127 

were  the  contemporaneous  products  of  the  same  im- 
pulse as  gave  birth  to  Yeats's  volume.  Since 
O'Grady  had  sent  the  young  generation  to  the  roots 
of  national  culture  a  number  of  new  writers  were  at 
work,  and  the  year  1889  saw  their  emergence  from 
obscurity.  Hyde's  Leabhar  Sgeuluigheachta,  which 
heralded  the  Gaelic  Movement,  appeared  in  the  same 
years  as  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin,  and  1889  is,  there- 
fore, a  date  of  some  interest  to  students  of  contem- 
porary Irish  literature.  The  time  had  come  for  the 
realisation  of  various  ideas  and  ideals  which  were 
stirring  in  Ireland,  hence  the  almost  simultaneous 
appearance  of  a  number  of  writers  representing  or 
emphasising  new  tendencies.  But  neither  Yeats  nor 
Larminie  nor  Todhunter  can  be  regarded  as  origi- 
nating any  movement,  inasmuch  as  they  themselves 
were  the  outcome  of  a  movement  already  initiated. 
Without  admitting  the  wider  claims  made  on 
behalf  of  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin,  we  may  justly 
consider  it  as  the  beginning  of  Yeats's  career.  The 
title  poem  itself  sufficiently  indicates  a  definite 
orientation  towards  national  poetry,  instead  of  the 
vague  romances  of  Arcady  and  Spain  with  which  the 
poet  was  at  first  engaged.  The  latter,  it  is  true, 
find  here  their  first  and  only  republication,  but  the 
volume,  in  the  main,  is  distinctly  Irish.  Yeats  was 
an  early  champion  of  Ferguson  against  the  rhetorical 
school  and,  during  the  first  years  of  the  Literary 
Societies,  he  had  constantly  to  assail  the  theory  that 
The  Nation  poets  were  unimpeachable  models  for 
all  who  desired  to  write  Irish  poetry.  As  far  back 
as  1886  he  wrote  in  the  Dublin  University  Review, 
urging  the  merits  of  Ferguson,  whom  he  recognised 
as  the  true  precursor  of  the  new  spirit.  This  disciple- 
ship  explains  in  some  measure  The  Wanderings  of 
Oisin.  Although  there  is  no  trace  of  Ferguson  in 


128    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Yeats's  style,  he  played,  nevertheless,  an  important 
part  in  the  literary  education  of  the  young  poet.  It 
was  doubtless  his  study  of  Ferguson  that  prompted 
him  to  essay  an  epic  poem  upon  an  Irish  subject, 
and  to  give,  in  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin,  the  measure 
of  his  genius.  From  Ferguson  and  Allingham  Yeats 
learned  what  Irish  poetry  could  be  made,  once  the 
political  note  was  softened  or  entirely  silenced.  "If 
somebody  could  make  a  style,"  he  wrote,  "which 
would  not  be  an  English  style,  and  yet  would  be 
musical  and  full  of  colour  many  others  would  catch 
fire  from  him."  This  was  the  thought  which  turned 
Yeats  from  Spain  and  Arcady  to  Ireland,  and  in  his 
volume  of  1889,  we  find  him  in  the  act  of  realising 
his  ideal  of  national  poetry.  An  artist  in  words,  he 
had  an  advantage  over  Ferguson,  whose  conception 
and  aims  were  lofty,  but  whose  craftsmanship  was 
unequal.  Having  been  roused  by  O'Grady's  prose, 
Yeats  was  able  to  bring  to  the  old  legends  an  admir- 
ation equal  to  Ferguson's,  but  a  sense  of  artistry 
and  a  temperament  unknown  to  the  older  writer. 
He  constantly  exhorted  his  contemporaries  to  chasten 
their  enthusiasm  for  the  crude  outbursts  of  aggres- 
sive patriotism,  for,  as  he  pointed  out,  "if  more  of 
them  would  write  about  the  beliefs  of  the  people  like 
Allingham,  or  about  old  legends  like  Ferguson,  they 
would  find  it  easier  to  get  a  style." 

The  first  edition  of  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin  differs 
materially  from  the  version  published  in  the  collected 
volume  Poems,  of  1895.  The  latter,  though  subse- 
quently emended  here  and  there,  is  substantially  the 
poem  as  it  appeared  in  its  final  form  in  later  editions. 
Even  in  its  original  form  the  poem  could  not  but  be  a 
revelation  of  the  poetical  possibilities  of  the  new 
Irish  literature.  Starting  from  the  idea  of  the  clash 
of  Paganism  and  Christianity,  which  had  appealed 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  129 

so  often  to  the  poets  of  old,  Yeats  succeeded  in 
creating  something  which  was  as  truly  in  harmony 
with  the  Celtic  spirit  as  it  was  expressive  of  himself 
and  the  generation  he  announced.  The  tale  relates 
Oisin's  departure  for  the  magic  faery  land,  where 
with  Niamh  he  dwells  for  three  centuries,  first  in  the 
Island  of  Dancing,  then  in  the  Island  of  Victories, 
and  finally  in  the  Island  of  Forgetfulness ;  the  frame- 
work of  legend  is  preserved,  but  the  content  is  an 
expression  of  personality,  where  the  past  is  blended 
subtly  with  the  present.  Ferguson,  familiar  as  he 
was  with  the  legends  and  mythology  of  Ireland,  failed 
somehow  to  infuse  the  warmth  of  reality  into  his 
reconstructions  of  antiquity;  his  poems,  like  those  of 
Todhunter,  and  others  who  have  treated  of  the 
legendary  subjects,  do  not  give  the  sense  of  intimacy 
needed  to  transport  the  reader.  Their  efforts  are 
somewhat  too  deliberate;  one  feels  that  they  have 
approached  the  heroic  and  fairy  lore  of  Ireland  as 
they  would  the  myths  of  Greece  and  Rome,  and  their 
work  is  frequently  no  more  convincing  than  the 
"classical"  tragedies  which  engage  the  attention  of 
so  many  young  poets.  It  was  Yeats's  distinction 
that  from  the  first  he  created  the  impression  of  an 
intimate  harmony  between  himself  and  his  subject. 
With  a  singular  imaginative  power  he  was  able  to 
obtain  the  freedom  of  a  region  of  Celtic  legend  and  ro- 
mance which  more  painstaking  scholars  had  surveyed 
without  ever  apprehending  its  true  atmosphere. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state  that  Yeats  did  not 
attain  at  once  to  the  almost  perfect  understanding 
of  the  spirit  that  moved  in  him,  and  demanded  to  be 
clothed  in  words  adequate  to  its  origins  and  tradi- 
tions. "It  was  years,"  he  admits,  "before  I  could 
rid  myself  of  Shelley's  Italian  light."  In  other  words, 
a  severe  literary  discipline  was  necessary  before  he 


i3o   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

could  give  to  Irish  subjects  a  mind  sufficiently  free 
from  English  influences  to  permit  of  a  true  con- 
gruity  between  style  and  matter.  The  difficulty 
which  presented  itself  is  one  necessarily  familiar  to 
Irishmen  since  the  days  when  their  language  was 
suppressed  with  the  object  of  extinguishing  their 
nationality.  Although  this  object  has  not  been 
achieved,  except  with  a  certain  minority  whose 
national  sense  is  atrophied  or  perverted,  the  dis- 
placement of  Irish  by  English  has  tended  to  place  a 
veil  between  the  people  and  their  own  literature  and 
culture.  The  writer  who  wishes  to  see  his  country 
reflected  in  his  work  must  break  through  this  veil  of 
English,  and  generally,  in  doing  so,  he  carries  with 
him  some  remnants  of  the  obstacle  through  which  he 
has  passed.  Afterwards  his  success  is  measured  by 
the  extent  to  which  he  is  unhampered  by  these  for- 
eign elements  that  cling  to  him.  This  experience 
fell,  of  course,  to  Yeats  who  was  obliged  to  conse- 
crate himself  to  the  task  of  eliminating  from  his  style 
those  qualities  he  knew  to  be  un-Irish,  and  therefore 
unsuited  to  the  poetry  that  came  to  him  from 
national  sources. 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  the  earlier  and  later 
editions  of  Yeats's  work,  and  to  see  him  in  the  very 
act  of  pruning  his  style  of  all  rude  or  incongruous 
elements.  The  passage  in  which  Oisin  describes  his 
meeting  with  Niamh  may  serve  as  an  example.  The 
1889  edition  reads: 

And  Bran,  Sgeolan  and  Lomair 

Were  lolling  their  tongues,  and  the  silken  hair 

Of  our  strong  steeds  was  dark  with  sweat, 

When  ambling  down  the  vale  we  met 

A  maiden  on  a  slender  steed, 

Whose  careful  pastern  pressed  the  sod 

As  though  he  held  an  earthy  mead 

Scarce  worthy  of  a  hoof  gold-shod, 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  131 

For  gold  his  hoofs  and  silk  his  rein, 

And  'tween  his  ears  above  his  mane 

A  golden  crescent  lit  the  plain, 

And  pearly  white  his  well-groomed  hair. 

His  mistress  was  more  mild  and  fair 

Than  doves  that  moaned  round  Eman's  hall 

Her  eyes  were  soft  as  dewdrops  hanging 
Upon  the  grass-blade  bending  tips, 
And  like  a  sunset  were  her  lips, 
A  stormy  sunset  o'er  doomed  ships. 
Her  hair  was  of  citron  tincture 
And  gathered  in  a  silver  cincture; 
Down  to  her  feet  white  vesture  flowed 
And  with  the  woven  crimson  glowed, 
Of  many  a  figured  creature  strange 
And  birds  that  on  the  seven  seas  range. 
..... 

This  early  version  contains  many  passages  of  unde- 
niable charm,  and  these  few  verses  are  sufficient  to 
give  an  idea  of  its  strength  and  weakness.  But  the 
revised  version  of  1895,  which  has  not  undergone 
very  important  modifications  since,  shows  a  wonder- 
ful transformation. 

Caolte,  and  Conan,  and  Finn  were  there, 

When  we  followed  a  deer  with  our  baying  hounds, 

With  Bran,  Sgeolan  and  Lomair, 

And  passing  the  Firbolgs'  burial  mounds, 

Came  to  the  cairn-heaped  grassy  hill 

Where  passionate  Maeve  is  stony  still; 

And  found  on  the  dove-gray  edge  of  the  sea 

A  pearl-pale,  high-born  lady,  who  rode 

On  a  horse  with  a  bridle  of  findrinny; 

And  like  a  sunset  were  her  lips; 

A  stormy  sunset  on  doomed  ships; 

A  citron  colour  gloomed  in  her  hair, 

But  down  to  her  feet  white  vesture  flowed 

And  with  the  glimmering  crimson  glowed 

Of  many  a  figured  embroidery. 


i32    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

The  entire  description  now  occupies  a  third  less  of  its 
original  compass.  The  unconvincing  images  and 
similes  have  disappeared,  while  the  essential  colour- 
ing is  retained  by  the  more  natural  application  of  the 
adjectives  "pearl-pale  and  dove-gray."  Nothing 
has  been  omitted  in  the  re-writing  that  we  could 
have  wished  to  see  preserved.  With  a  sure  sense 
of  art,  only  the  irrelevant  has  been  rejected,  for  a 
more  timid  or  less  sensitive  hand  might  have  hesi- 
tated at  the  boldness  of 

"And  like  a  sunset  were  her  lips 
A  stormy  sunset  on  doomed  ships;" 

Significant  too,  as  illustrating  that  harmony  between 
the  true  self  of  the  poet  and  his  subject,  is  his  simul- 
taneous achievement  of  two  results.  He  might  have 
emended  the  poem  in  obedience  to  the  suggestions 
of  a  well-developed  sense  of  poetic  values,  but  at 
the  same  time  have  lessened  or  destroyed  its  inner 
qualities.  On  the  contrary,  this  elevation  of  form 
resulted  in  a  heightening  of  the  Celtic  note.  Surely 
no  more  striking  demonstration  was  possible  of  the 
real  and  subtle  relation  of  form  and  content.  Here, 
obviously,  was  no  mere  manipulation  of  local  colour 
formulae.  The  nearer  Yeats  approaches  to  the  per- 
fect expression  of  his  thought,  the  more  finely  he 
attunes  his  instrument,  the  more  national  becomes 
his  song. 

The  Countess  Kathleen  and  Various  Legends  and 
Lyrics,  in  1892,  revealed  a  more  exclusive  preoccu- 
pation with  Ireland  than  the  preceding  volume. 
There  is  not  a  line  in  the  book  that  is  not  instinct 
with  the  spirit  of  nationality,  yet  anything  more 
different  from  what  had  hitherto  been  accepted  as 
the  typical  collection  of  Irish  national  poetry  it 
would  be  difficult  to  conceive.  Perceiving  this,  yet 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  133 

conscious  that  his  verses  were  none  the  less  the  ex- 
pression of  his  country,  Yeats  voices  his  conviction 
in  the  fine  Apologia  which  is  now  so  familiar: 

Nor  may  I  less  be  counted  one 

With  Davis,  Mangan,  Ferguson, 

Because  to  him  who  ponders  well 

My  rhymes  more  than  their  rhyming  tell.  .  .  . 

These  poems  belong  to  the  period  when  Yeats  was  a 
member  of  the  Young  Ireland  Society,  and  when, 
though  fighting  against  the  undue  regard  in  which 
Davis  and  his  school  were  held,  he  desired,  like  them, 
to  write  "popular  poetry."  Although  convinced  of 
the  superiority  of  Mangan,  and  of  Ferguson  espe- 
cially, he  nevertheless  tried  to  convince  himself  that 
the  popular  patriotic  poets  wrote  well,  and  to  im- 
prove upon  the  tradition  they  had  created.  The 
most  successful  of  these  attempts  are  the  ballads, 
Father  Gilligan,  Father  CfHart  and  The  Lamentation 
of  the  Old  Pensioner.  These,  like  the  songs,  Down  by 
the  Salley  Garden  and  The  Meditation  of  an  Old  Fisher- 
man, from  the  previous  volume,  are  the  result  of 
direct  contact  with  the  country  people,  and  may 
fairly  claim  to  be  as  "popular"  as  is  possible  for 
Yeats.  The  author  has  suggested  in  later  years  that 
these  poems  are  trivial  and  sentimental,  weaknesses 
he  ascribes  to  the  fact  of  their  being  "imitations." 
But  to  many  they  will  possess  a  charm  and  spon- 
taneity preferable  to  the  laboured  obscurities  of  his 
maturity. 

Distinct  from  the  verses  inspired  by  country  lore 
are  those  which  have  their  roots  in  the  heroic  age. 
Here  it  is  possible  to  see  the  influence  of  Ferguson 
driving  the  poet  to  the  libraries,  where  he  could 
satisfy  the  appetite  awakened  by  O'Grady  for  the 
ancient  sagas.  Fergus  and  the  Druid  and  The  Death 


134   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

of  Cuchullin  are  fragments  in  the  Fergusonian  man- 
ner— for  Ferguson  invariably  confines  his  treatment 
to  some  slight  incident  rather  than  to  a  sequence  of 
episodes  from  the  heroic  cycles.  Yeats,  however,  is 
able  to  supply  the  element  of  beauty  whose  absence 
made  Ferguson's  work  so  frequently  colourless.  The 
latter  held  his  reader  to  the  interest  of  the  subject 
in  itself,  whereas  the  former  compels  attention  by 
the  art  of  his  verse.  One  forgets  the  fragmentary 
theme  in  order  to  enjoy  the  expression  of  the  poet's 
thought.  Ferguson  could  not  have  written: 

A  wild  and  foolish  labourer  is  a  king, 
To  do  and  do  and  do,  and  never  dream. 

The  lines  are  a  formula  of  Yeats's  attitude  towards 
life.  Even  less  likely  is  the  author  of  Congal  to 
make  us  lose  sight  of  his  subject  in  order  to  admire 
the  thought. 

I  see  my  life  go  dripping  like  a  stream 

From  change  to  change;  I  have  been  many  things — 

A  green  drop  in  the  surge,  a  gleam  of  light 

Upon  a  sword,  a  fir-tree  on  a  hill, 

An  old  slave  grinding  at  a  heavy  guern, 

A  king  sitting  upon  a  chair  of  gold.  .  .  . 

Fergus  and  the  Druid  is  as  great  an  advance  upon, 
say,  Ferguson's  Abdication  of  Fergus  MacRoy,  as  the 
ballads  mentioned  were  upon  those  of  Davis  and  his 
followers.  Less  successful  is  The  Death  of  Cuchullin, 
which  deals  with  that  intensely  tragic  situation  of 
Irish  legend,  the  slaying  of  Cuchullin  by  his  father, 
who  is  ignorant  of  his  son's  identity.  The  tragedy 
is  lost  in  the  poem,  nor  are  there  any  touches  of  per- 
sonality to  compensate  for  the  author's  failure  to 
catch  the  proper  note.  Conscious,  no  doubt,  of 
this  ineffectiveness,  Yeats  later  returned  to  the  sub- 
ject in  the  one-act  play,  On  Bailees  Strand.  Here, 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  135 

at  all  events,  the  conception  is  more  adequate.  How 
far  he  has  succeeded  in  capturing  the  tragic  mood, 
we  shall  see  when  examining  his  dramatic  work. 

From  1892  until  1899,  there  was  a  pause  in  the 
poetic  activity  of  Yeats.  During  that  period  he 
did  not  produce  a  new  book  of  verse,  contenting 
himself  with  publishing  in  1895  his  first  volume  of 
collected  poems.  This  contained  but  one  poem  which 
had  not  already  appeared  in  book  form,  and  a  re- 
writing, under  the  title,  A  Dream  of  a  Blessed  Spirit, 
of  a  song  from  The  Countess  Kathleen,  not  retained 
in  the  second  and  later  versions  of  that  play.  Be- 
yond rewriting  and  emending  certain  early  poems, 
the  author  made  no  additions  to  his  lyrics  until 
1899,  when  he  published  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds. 
This  very  slender  volume,  whose  text  is  almost  sub- 
merged in  explanatory  notes,  indicated  that  the 
seven  years  which  went  to  produce  it  could  not  have 
been  wholly  consecrated  to  verse.  They  were,  in 
point  of  fact,  the  years  in  which  Yeats  wrote  most 
of  his  prose  work,  apart  from  that  connected  with 
the  Irish  Dramatic  Movement.  As  editor  of  Blake, 
critic  of  the  numerous  works  being  written  under  the 
first  impetus  of  the  Revival,  and  author  of  The 
Celtic  Twilight  and  The  Secret  Rose,  the  poet  of  The 
Countess  Kathleen  had  been  fully  occupied  in  that 
interval  which  preceded  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds. 
'He  did  not  merit  the  reproaches  of  the  critics  who,  on 
its  appearance,  complained  that  the  book  was  small, 
and  regarded  it  as  evidence  of  inactivity. 

While  apparently  unsubstantial,  The  Wind  Among 
the  Reeds  was  Yeats's  most  serious  lyrical  work,  at 
least  in  intention.  It  was  written  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  author's  recent  study  of  Blake,  and  at  a 
time  when  he  was  engaged  in  those  mystical  specu- 
lations of  which  The  Secret  Rose  and  The  Tables  of 


136   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

the  Law  were  the  earlier  expression.  Aedh,  Hanra- 
han  and  Michael  Robartes  are  transferred  from  the 
former  work  and  become  the  personages  of  many  of 
these  poems,  where  they  retain  at  the  same  time 
their  original  symbolical  significance.  This  move- 
ment in  the  direction  of  symbolism  began  to  define 
itself  when  Yeats  gave  to  a  number  of  poems  from 
The  Countess  Kathleen  the  sub-title  The  Rose,  on  the 
occasion  of  their  republication  in  1895.  These  poems 
were  written  under  the  growing  influence  of  a  mysti- 
cism which  was  separating  him  from  the  young  poets 
who  had  grown  up  with  Yeats  in  the  revived  tra- 
dition of  Irish  literature.  Already  in  1892  he  felt 
that  he  was  going  beyond  the  goal  set  by  his  contem- 
poraries, and  those  of  their  predecessors  whom  they 
had  elected  to  follow.  Thus  he  wrote  in  the  Apologia 
addressed  to  Ireland: 

Know  that  I  would  accounted  be 
True  brother  of  that  company 
Who  sang  to  sweeten  Ireland's  wrong, 
Ballad  and  story,  rann  and  song; 
Nor  be  I  any  less  of  them, 
Because  the  red  rose-bordered  hem 
Of  her  whose  history  began 
Before  God  made  the  angelic  clan, 
Trails  all  about  the  written  page.  .  .  . 

The  "red  rose-bordered  hem"  is  the  Leitmotiv  of 
Yeats's  thought  at  this  time.  It  emerges  more  defi- 
nitely in  The  Rose,  is  emphasised  in  The  Secret  Rose 
and  Rosa  Alchemica  and  culminates  in  The  Wind 
Among  the  Reeds,  with  which  the  personages  and 
fundamental  teaching  of  the  former  stories  are 
interwoven. 

Eternal  Beauty,  which  is  the  poet's  quest,  is  sym- 
bolised for  him  by  the  Rose,  and  thus  he  gave  that 
title,  in  1895,  to  the  poems  which  were  the  pathway 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  137 

leading  him  in  the  direction  of  his  ideal.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  see  in  such  verses  as  The  Two  Trees  the 
transition  to  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds,  where  the 
highest  point  of  progress  is  reached.  The  book  is 
probably  the  most  complete  expression  of  Yeats. 
It  is  the  most  characteristic,  for  all  his  faults  and 
most  of  his  virtues  are  developed  to  a  maximum,  so 
that  it  has  become,  as  it  were,  the  quintessence  of 
Yeats,  where  friend  and  foe  alike  seek  the  justifi- 
cation of  their  admiration  and  hostility,  respectively. 
It  is  significant  that  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds  has 
remained  throughout  all  subsequent  editions  un- 
altered from  the  form  of  1899.  Unlike  its  prede- 
cessors, the  volume  has  not  undergone  those  constant 
modifications  and  emendations  which  have  made  the 
variations  in  Yeats's  work  almost  notorious.  It 
seems  as  if  the  technical  perfection  of  the  first  edi- 
tion has,  for  once,  satisfied  the  author.  It  has  hap- 
pened, more  than  once,  that  sympathetic  criticism 
has  had  to  protest  against  the  poet's  fastidiousness, 
but  on  this  occasion  Yeats's  own  estimate  of  his  work 
has  coincided  with  that  of  his  critics.  Whatever 
objections  have  been  levelled  against  The  Wind 
Among  the  Reeds,  it  has  been  recognised  as  a  final 
demonstration  of  the  author's  command  of  his  craft. 
A  volume  which  opens  with  The  Hosting  of  the  Sidhe 
cannot  but  draw  forth  the  praise  of  those  who  have 
responded  to  the  call  of  the  Celtic  element  in  lit- 
erature: 

The  host  is  riding  from  Knocknarea 
And  over  the  grave  of  Clooth-na  bare; 
Caolte  tossing  his  burning  hair 
And  Niamh  calling:  Away,  come  away: 
Empty  your  heart  of  its  mortal  dream. 

The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds  contains  many  verses 
like  these,  yet  the  cumulative  effect  of  the  book  is 


138   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

unfavourable  to  all  but  the  few — or  is  it  the  many? — 
who  profess  to  find  in  Yeats's  overweighted  sym- 
bolism the  exposition  of  a  profound  creed.  In  spite 
of  the  general  protest  against  the  numerous  poems 
involving  voluminous  explanatory  notes,  and  the 
absolute  obscurity  of  several,  this  is  the  collection 
of  verse  which  has  established  the  author's  claim 
to  the  title  "mystic  poet."  The  prose  works  pre- 
ceding it,  already  referred  to,  constitute  a  more  sub- 
stantial effort  to  establish  that  claim,  but  The  Wind 
Among  the  Reeds  is  the  first  mature  expression  of 
Yeats's  mysticism  in  verse.  It  marks  the  maturity 
of  his  technique,  the  end  of  his  career  as  purely  lyric 
poet,  and  the  beginning  of  a  phase  in  his  evolution 
with  which  he  has  come  to  be  popularly  and  com- 
pletely identified.  Yet,  it  is  doubtful,  with  all  its 
paraphernalia  of  occultism,  its  display  of  mystic 
lore,  if  the  book  is  one  in  which  the  authentic  voice 
of  the  mystic  is  heard. 

Mysticism  is,  above  all,  intellectual,  when  it  is  not 
charlatanism.  Vision  comes  only  as  the  reward  of 
severe  mental  discipline,  after  study  as  rigorous  as 
that  demanded  by  any  of  the  so-called  "exact" 
sciences.  But  there  is  no  trace  of  this  in  Yeats, 
who  cannot  properly  be  described  as  an  intellectual 
poet.  His  appeal  is  primarily  sensuous.  None  can 
charm  the  ear  more  delicately,  or  please  the  eye 
of  imagination  more  skilfully  than  the  author  of 
Oisin.  It  is  improbable  that  he  has  ever  mastered 
the  science  of  mysticism  as  he  has  mastered  the 
science  of  verse.  So  long  as  the  mind  surrenders 
to  the  heart,  thought  to  emotion,  Yeats  carries  the 
reader  with  him.  A  typical  illustration  is  that 
wonderful  lyric  The  Rose  of  the  World,  one  of  the 
earliest  pages  about  which  trails  "the  red  rose-bor- 
dered hem": 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  139 

Who  dreamed  that  beauty  passes  like  a  dream? 
For  these  red  lips,  with  all  their  mournful  pride, 
Mournful  that  no  new  wonder  may  betide, 
Troy  passed  away  in  one  high  funeral  gleam, 
And  Usna's  children  died. 
•  •  •  •  • 

Bow  down,  archangels,  in  your  dim  abode: 
Before  you  were,  or  any  hearts  to  beat, 
Weary  and  kind  one  stood  beside  His  seat; 
He  made  the  world  to  be  a  grassy  road 
Before  her  wandering  feet. 

The  last  verse  empties  the  poem  of  all  intellectual 
content.  It  is  impossible  to  know  who  is  "weary 
and  kind,"  for  the  adjectives  are  inapplicable  to  any 
being  conceived  by  the  preceding  verses.  One  can- 
not imagine  Eternal  Beauty  as  ever  having  been 
"weary  and  kind,"  and,  assuming  the  allusion  to  be 
some  living  woman,  it  is  equally  inconceivable  that 
she  should  have  existed  "weary  and  kind,"  in  the 
region  of  time  and  space  considered  by  the  poet.  It 
would  be  easy  to  cite  other  instances  of  this  inconse- 
quence in  Yeats's  thought,  and  when  we  shall  have 
considered  his  prose  writings,  it  will  be  seen  that 
these  incongruities  are  not  due  to  the  exigencies  of 
rhyme.  Not  poetic  licence,  but  a  fundamental  mis- 
conception of  mystic  doctrine,  is  the  explanation. 

Mysticism  to  Yeats  is  not  an  intellectual  belief, 
but  an  emotional  or  artistic  refuge.  His  visions  do 
not  convince  us,  because  they  are  obviously  "liter- 
ary" rather  than  spiritual.  The  concepts  which 
are  realities  to  Blake,  or  to  Yeats's  contemporary, 
A.  E.,  are  to  him  symbols,  nor  do  they  strike  the 
reader  as  being  anything  more.  Of  symbolism — 
even  mystic  symbolism — there  is  plenty,  but  of 
mysticism  hardly  a  trace.  In  the  earlier  poems  there 
is  more  evidence  of  genuine  mystic  feeling  than  in 
The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds  and  its  successors.  Since 


140   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

1899  the  poet  has  been  almost  completely  merged 
in  the  dramatist,  but  three  very  slim  collections  of 
lyric  verse  have  appeared  at  long  intervals,  In  the 
Seven  Woods  (1903),  The  Green  Helmet  and  other 
Poems  (1910)  and  Responsibilities  (1914).  All  three 
^continue  the  manner  of  the  1899  volume,  but  The 
Wind  Among  the  Reeds  remains,  nevertheless,  the 
culminating  point  of  progress  in  the  direction  of 
mystic  symbolism.  Beyond  it  no  advance  can  be 
made.  It  is,  therefore,  needless  to  say  that,  in 
attempting  to  go  further,  the  poet  has  come  to  a 
standstill.  In  The  Green  Helmet  and  other  Poems  he 
cries : 

The  fascination  of  what's  difficult 

Has  dried  the  sap  out  of  my  veins.  .  .  . 

Although  the  reference  is  more  particularly  to  his 
experiments  with  the  theatre,  the  lines  are  appro- 
priate to  more  than  the  plays  of  the  later  Yeats. 
Symbolism  has  been  both  a  good  servant  and  a  bad 
master,  for  at  one  period  it  had  vanquished  the  poet. 
When  we  were  asked  in  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds 
to  remember  that  "Hanrahan  is  the  simplicity  of  an 
imagination  too  changeable  to  gather  permanent 
possessions,  or  the  adoration  of  the  shepherds;  and 
Michael  Robartes  is  the  pride  of  imagination  brood- 
ing upon  the  greatness  of  its  possessions,  or  the  ado- 
ration of  the  Magi;  while  Aedh  is  the  myrrh  and 
frankincense  that  the  imagination  offers  continually 
before  all  that  it  loves" — it  was  clear  that  the  symbol 
had  become  more  to  Yeats  than  the  thought.  In 
1899  criticism  was  indignant  at  the  obscurities  of  the 
celebrated,  Mongan  Laments  the  Change  that  has 
come  upon  Him  and  His  Beloved,  but  in  1903  In  the 
Seven  Woods  contained  a  similar  piece  of  ingenuity, 
The  Rider  from  the  North,  while  The  Grey  Rock  in 
Responsibilities  surpasses  both  in  its  wealth  of 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  141 

enigma.  Yeats  has  abandoned  the  hope  of  disarm- 
ing hostility  by  notes,  as  in  The  Wind  Among  ~thf 
Reeds;  his  allusions  and  symbols  are  now  left  for  the 
few  who  can  read  as  they  run.  In  this  he  is  wise,  for 
it  is  doubtful  if  such  a  glose  as  that  quoted  concern- 
ing Hanrahan,  Robartes  and  Aedh,  will  be  of  any 
help  to  the  uninitiated  in  their  attempt  to  appreci- 
ate the  poetry.  But  it  is  equally  doubtful  if  the 
existence  of  such  poems  as  those  mentioned  is  any 
more  justified  because  to  some  the  symbols  are  as 
familiar  as  to  the  author. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  suggest  that  Yeats's  later 
poems  grow  increasingly  obscure,  and  perhaps  unin- 
tentionally that  is  the  impression  left  by  what  has 
been  said.  While  it  is  true  that  In  the  Seven  Woods 
and  subsequent  collections  mark  no  advance  on 
The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds,  they  contain  work  which 
is  equal  to  the  best  Yeats  has  written.  The  specifi- 
cally symbolic-mystic  poems  are  inevitably  what 
was  to  be  expected,  but  the  author  has  still  his 
artistry,  the  verbal  magic,  and  the  technique  which 
made  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds  an  achievement. 
The  return  to  the  themes  of  Irish  legend  in  The  Old 
Age  of  Queen  Maeve  and  Baile  and  Aillinn;  the  Song 
of  Red  Hanrahan  and  The  Withering  of  the  Boughs 
made  In  the  Seven  Woods  a  volume  precious  to  those 
admirers  of  Yeats  whose  passion  for  the  allusive 
and  elusive  was  within  bounds.  This,  with  The 
Green  Helmet  and  other  Poems  and  Responsibilities, 
would  make  a  book  to  be  placed  beside  The  Wind 
Among  the  Reeds.  The  most  recent  volume,  particu- 
larly, is  interesting,  as  sounding  the  note  of  actuality. 
The  Grey  Rock  and  The  Two  Kings  are  here,  of 
course,  to  remind  us  that  Yeats  is  unrepentant,  but 
the  majority  of  the  poems  in  Responsibilities  are  as 
free  from  the  defects  of  elaborate  symbolism  as 


142    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Yeats's  early  work.  They  are  written  out  of  the 
experience  gained  from  years  of  controversy  and 
struggle  in  the  practical  world  on  behalf  of  an  ideal. 
Some  are  directly  inspired  by  incidents  connected 
with  the  Irish  National  Theatre  propaganda,  others 
bear  upon  certain  notorious  episodes  of  Ireland's 
artistic  history,  and  these  contemporaneous  utter- 
ances bring  the  poet  from  the  dream-world  to  every- 
day life,  with  most  happy  results.  There  is  a  firm- 
ness and  directness  of  outline  which  are  not  usually 
associated  with  the  poetry  of  Yeats.  He  has  freed 
himself  from  the  preoccupations  of  symbolism  only 
to  gain  in  beauty  and  energy  what  he  has  lost  in 
vagueness  and  mystery.  Who  will  not  prefer  Sep- 
tember, 1913,  with  its  passionate  cry: 

Romantic  Ireland's  dead  and  gone, 
It's  with  O'Leary  in  the  grave. 

to  those  overcharged  memories  of  diligently  acquired 
mysticism  ? 

Regret  has  frequently  been  expressed  that  Yeats 
should  have  almost  forsaken  lyric  poetry,  after  the 
publication  of  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds,  in  the 
year  which  saw  the  beginning  of  the  dramatic  move- 
ment, whose  existence  has  absorbed  him.  The 
theatre,  it  is  contended,  has  robbed  us  of  great 
poetry.  Apart  from  the  effectiveness  of  Yeats's 
participation  in  the  movement  to  found  a  National 
Theatre,  there  is  much  to  be  said  against  this  con- 
tention. Yeats  has  not  failed  to  exercise  such  influ- 
ence as  was  inherent  in  his  work  upon  Irish  litera- 
ture. As  the  bearer  of  a  poetic  standard  as  lofty 
as  it  was  national  he  has  fulfilled  his  part.  His 
work  has  called  forth  more  imitators  in  England  than 
in  his  own  country,  but  it  has  been  indirectly  an 
important  factor  in  the  development  of  contem- 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  POEMS  143 

porary  Irish  poetry.  Had  the  drama  not  called 
him  away  in  1899,  it  is  possible  that  his  value  as  a 
lyric  poet  might  have  diminished,  for  the  volume 
published  in  that  year  did  not  afford  any  hope  of 
further  evolution  along  the  same  lines.  Mature  in 
its  technique,  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds  could  only 
have  given  promise  for  the  future  in  its  substance, 
but  as  we  have  seen  the  content  is  as  imperfect  as 
the  form  is  perfect.  The  encroachment  of  a  too 
weighty  symbolism,  and  the  elaboration  of  the  purely 
picturesque,  occult,  elements  of  mysticism,  were 
bound  to  lead  to  repetition  and  sterility.  As  it  is, 
the  enigmatic  has  grown  more  obscure  without  any 
corresponding  profundity,  while  criticism  has  been 
quick  to  notice  the  presence  of  mannerisms  where 
felicities  were  at  first  admired. 

The  best  of  Yeats  is  probably  contained  in  the 
Poems  of  1895;  here,  after  selection  and  emendation, 
he  collected  the  flower  of  his  lyrical  poetry.  Beau- 
tiful as  are  numerous  poems  in  the  collections  he 
has  since  made,  they  do  not  surpass  those  original 
songs,  which  sprang  from  a  heart  and  mind  in  inti- 
mate contact  with  the  sources  of  Irish  nationality. 
The  hills  and  streams,  the  songs  and  legends  of 
Celtic  Ireland,  these  were  the  pure  springs  from  which 
the  poet  drank.  Later  he  was  to  become  more  con- 
scious of  his  art,  to  master  more  cunningly  the  secrets 
of  craftsmanship,  but,  in  so  doing,  to  lose  something 
of  himself.  But  it  has  been  to  that  part  of  him 
which  remained  constant,  which  has  not  been  led 
away  in  pursuit  of  doubtful  mysteries,  we  can 
always  return.  The  Yeats  of  Innisfree  and  Oisin,  the 
creator  of  beautiful  melodies,  the  magician  of  words 
whose  delicate  harmonies  haunt  the  ear,  has  enabled 
us  to  forget  the  disciple  of  Peladan  and  occultists. 
By  the  simple  expedient  of  listening  only  to  their 


144   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

sound,  many  have  surrendered  to  the  "mystic" 
poems  of  Yeats,  and  have  even  convinced  them- 
selves, in  the  end,  that  they  have  heard  something 
more.  When  he  evokes  some  beautiful  thought  or 
gesture,  some  real  or  imaginary  landscape,  impreg- 
nated with  the  charm  of  his  imagination — these  are 
the  true  "visions"  of  the  poet,  the  glimpses  of  the 
Ideal,  which  bring  the  conviction  of  Reality,  in  the 
Platonic  sense.  How  different  from  the  too  deliber- 
ate evocations  of  superficial  mysticism!  The  intro- 
duction of  intellectualism  into  that  shadowy  dream- 
world, the  desire  to  make  symbols  of  natural  beauty, 
to  attune  the  mystic  voices  of  Nature  to  the  preach- 
ing of  some  obscure  doctrine — these  are  the  defects 
which  mark  the  development  of  Yeats.  They  are 
responsible  for  that  impression  of  inhumanity  which 
he  creates,  for,  in  the  confusion  of  the  intellectual 
and  the  imaginative,  the  reader  ceases  to  recognise  in 
which  world  he  is  moving.  Reason  is  revolted  by 
the  inconsequences  of  the  transcendental  world, 
while  the  imagination  is  fettered  by  the  presence 
of  reason  in  a  sphere  where  agreement  between 
them  is  impossible.  In  order  to  escape  the  dilemma, 
one  must  either  take  refuge  with  the  Yeats  in  whom 
the  conflict  does  not  arise,  or  surrender  to  the  music 
of  words  without  examining  their  meaning.  The 
former  course  is  the  wiser,  for  the  full  force  of  this 
appeal  can  best  be  felt  where  the  winds  of  doctrine 
do  not  prevail.  W.  B.  Yeats  is  not  an  "intellectual" 
poet;  the  instrument  he  wields  gives  out  its  purest 
tones  when  unhampered  by  the  wrappings  of  mystical 
symbolism.  These  are  often  ornamental  but  seldom 
useful. 


CHAPTER  VII 
WILLIAM  BUTLER  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS 

IT  is  customary  to  deplore  the  loss  to  Irish 
poetry  which  has  resulted  from  the  absorption 
of  Yeats  by  the  theatre.  It  should  not,  how- 
ever, be  forgotten  that  this  interest  in  drama 
did  not  come  to  him  as  a  later  phase.  His  first  pub- 
lished work,  which  appeared  in  The  Dublin  Univer- 
sity Review  in  1885,  was  The  Island  of  Statues:  An 
Arcadian  Faery  Tale  in  Two  Acts,  followed  in  1886 
by  Mosada,  a  Dramatic  Poem,  both  of  which  indi- 
cate a  certain  leaning  towards  the  dramatic  form  of 
writing.  Neither  was  written,  of  course,  with  a  view 
of  being  produced  upon  the  stage,  but,  though  sub- 
sequent practical  experience  has  given  the  author 
some  command  of  the  technique  of  the  theatre, 
those  early  poems  are  not  so  widely  removed  from 
the  later  plays  as  might  be  imagined.  The  dramatic 
element  being  usually  subordinate  to  the  poetic,  the 
young  poet  is  still  plainly  visible  in  the  more  experi- 
enced playwright.  The  development  of  Yeats  as  a 
dramatist  is  intimately  connected  with  the  develop- 
ment of  the  Irish  National  Theatre,  but  it  is  hardly 
correct  to  say  that  the  latter  is  responsible  for  the 
former.  The  rise  of  the  Dramatic  Movement  in 
1899  coincided  with  the  culmination  of  his  lyric 
efforts  in  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds,  but,  as  has 
been  suggested  in  the  previous  chapter,  the  relative 
inactivity  which  ensued  may  be  attributed  to  an- 
other cause.  The  creation  of  a  national  theatre  did 

145 


146    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

not  so  completely  absorb  the  lyricist  as  is  usually 
asserted.  If  Yeats  devoted  himself  with  such  in- 
tensity of  purpose  to  the  work  of  the  theatre  it  was 
because  he  felt  that  there  he  would  find  opportu- 
nities to  develop,  rather  than  in  the  direction  he  had 
hitherto  exclusively  followed. 

The  Dramatic  Movement  was  the  occasion,  not 
the  cause,  of  the  second  phase  of  Yeats's  evolution. 
The  dramatic  instinct  was  in  him  from  the  beginning. 
The  Countess  Kathleen  was  written  in  1892,  seven 
years  before  the  foundation  of  the  Irish  Theatre, 
while  the  first  of  his  plays  to  be  performed  was  The 
Land  of  Hearts  Desire,  produced  in  London  as  early 
as  1894.  In  its  earlier  form  The  Countess  Kathleen 
differs  greatly  from  the  version  published  in  the 
Poems  of  1895,  which  has  remained  practically  un- 
changed. The  former  was  apparently  not  con- 
ceived as  a  stage  production,  and  reads  like  a  dra- 
matic poem  rather  than  a  play.  In  1895,  however, 
the  loosely-knit  "scenes,"  into  which  it  was  divided, 
became  "acts,"  and  by  a  process  of  expansion  and 
excision  the  work  was  lengthened  and  strengthened 
at  the  same  time.  Yet  this  strengthening  has  not 
constituted  it  a  drama,  in  any  acceptable  sense  of 
the  term,  for  Yeats  has  succeeded  in  enhancing  the 
dramatic  quality  of  his  work  only  in  so  far  as  he 
has  added  to  its  poetic  strength.  The  Countess 
Kathleen  is  a  more  perfect  poem  now  than  when  first 
conceived,  but  in  the  theatre  it  is  as  unconvincing 
as  ever.  The  theme  of  sacrifice,  of  the  woman  who 
sells  her  soul  to  the  demons  that  her  people  may  not 
traffic  theirs,  is  obviously  one  for  the  dramatist,  but 
Yeats  has  been  unable  to  grasp  it.  There  is  not  a 
dramatic  incident  in  the  whole  play,  the  tension  is 
loose,  and  the  action  so  diffuse  that  the  supreme 
moment  of  Kathleen's  sacrifice  passes  almost  un- 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS  147 

noticed.  Failure  to  express  the  dramatic  intensity 
of  the  situation  must  be  attributed  to  that  funda- 
mental weakness  in  the  poet  which  almost  invariably 
deprives  him  of  the  effects  which  a  skilled  dramatist 
would  achieve.  That  he  sensed  the  possibilities  of 
the  theme  is  evident  from  the  manner  in  which  he 
altered  the  first  version.  The  death  of  the  Countess 
Kathleen  and  her  assumption  into  Paradise  afforded 
a  denouement  to  which  the  later  versions  are  im- 
measurably more  adequate  than  that  of  1892.  But, 
characteristically,  the  improvements  are  literary 
rather  than  dramatic.  The  poet's  judgment  was 
sure  enough  to  enable  him  to  preserve  all  the  finest 
lines  of  the  early  play,  and  in  closing  the  drama  he 
uses  them  with  heightened  effect.  If  the  Angel's 
song,  All  the  Heavy  Days  are  Over,  is  omitted,  we  find 
it  elsewhere  in  Yeats's  lyrics  as  The  Dream  of  a  Blessed 
Spirit,  with  the  last  verse  altered  by  a  veritable 
inspiration.  In  return,  are  substituted  those  lovely 
lines : 

Bend  down  your  faces,  Oona  and  Aleel: 
I  gaze  upon  them  as  the  swallow  gazes 
Upon  the  nest  under  the  eave,  before 
He  wander  the  loud  waters.  .  .  . 

with  which  Kathleen  takes  leave  of  her  companions. 
What  added  force,  too,  is  given  to  the  well-known 
verses  of  the  original  play: 


The  years  like  great  black  oxen  tread  the  world 
And  God  the  herdsman  goads  them  on  behind, 
And  I  am  broken  by  their  passing  feet. 


\ 


Instead  of  being  uttered  almost  in  the  void  by  Oona 
to  "a  young  peasant,"  these  lines  are  now  the  com- 
ment of  a  mother  upon  the  loss  of  her  child.  They 
close  the  drama  upon  the  deeper  note  of  tragedy. 


148    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Yeats  has  so  frequently  and  so  materially  revised 
his  plays  that  they  may  be  considered  without  insist- 
ence upon  chronological  sequence.  Radical  changes 
in  rewriting  deprive  many  of  them  of  their  priority. 
Title  and  theme  may  belong  to  an  early  date,  but  a 
new  edition  often  means  a  new  play.  It  would  be 
superfluous  to  preserve  the  form  of  chronology  when 
the  essentials  are  lacking.  In  1914,  for  example, 
Responsibilities  contained  a  version  of  The  Hour 
Glass  differing  from  that  of  1903  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  render  unnecessary  any  attempt  to  treat  the 
play  as  belonging  to  one  period  rather  than  the  other. 
It  will,  therefore,  be  most  convenient  to  divide  the 
dramatic  works  of  Yeats  into  groups.  On  the  one 
side  are  the  plays  whose  material  is  derived  from  the 
myths  and  legends  of  the  Heroic  Age,  on  the  other 
those  of  one  act,  inspired  by  peasant  and  fairy  lore. 
As  the  latter  attach  themselves  in  manner,  at  least, 
to  The  Countess  Kathleen,  they  call  for  attention  at 
this  point.  Since  the  Heroic  dramas  mainly  belong 
to  the  latest  period  of  the  poet's  activities,  departure 
from  the  strict  chronological  order  will  not  distort 
the  general  picture  of  Yeats's  development  as  a 
dramatist. 

The  Land  of  Hearfs  Desire,  Cathleen  ni  Houlihan, 
The  Hour  Glass  and  The  Pot  of  Broth  are  the  most 
popular  contributions  Yeats  has  made  to  the  Irish 
theatre.  The  Land  of  Hearfs  Desire  is,  as  it  were^ 
the  complement  of  its  predecessor,  The  Countess 
Kathleen,  in  that  it  illustrates  the  strain  of  paganism 
which  is  as  surely  a  part  of  Celtic  folklore  as  the 
piety  of  which  the  former  play  is  an  expression.^ 
Yeats's  peculiar  skill  in  handling  fairy  themes .  was 
manifest  from  the  first,  when  he  contributed  The 
Stolen  Child  to  Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young  Ireland, 
and  in  The  Land  of  Hearfs  Desire  he  demonstrated 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS  149 

his  power  to  elaborate  such  themes  without  destroy- 
ing their  delicate  simplicity.     The  story  of  how  the 
fairy  child  stole  away  Maire  Bruin,  the  young  bride, 
is  typical  of  the  many  romances  which  the  peasant 
mind  has  created  out  of  the  doings  of  the  Good  People 
in  Ireland.     To  Yeats  these  fairy  tales  have  become,  |  * 
as  they  doubtless  originally  were,  symbols  expressing  < 
the   aspirations  of  the  soul;    he   gives  to  them  a 
spiritual  significance  which  heightens  their  charm,  I 
while  preserving  the  sense  of  naivete  in  which  they 
survive  throughout  the  Irish  countryside.     The  Land 
of  Hearfs  Desire  is  a  perfect  example  of  the  poet's  / 
intimate  sympathy  with  these  remnants  of  Celtic/ 
mythology.     The  realism  of  Bridget  and  Maurteen  f 
Bruin's  terror  and  awe  before  the  fairy  visitor,  the 
combination    of    childlike    superstition    and    deep 
mysticism  with  which  the  play  is  informed,  produce 
the  happiest  effect.     Maire's   response  to  the   call 
of  the  Sidhe  is,  for  the  reader  as  for  the  author,  an 
act  of  obedience  to  the  mysterious  forces  that  draw 
men  out  of  themselves  into  the  transcendental  world 
of  the  spirit.     The  poet  here  expresses  the  emotion 
which  dominates  so  much  of  his  work  and  is  so  pow- 
erfully suggested  in  The  Hosting  of  the  Sidhe. 

Withal,  the  primitive  framework  of  the  little  drama 
remains  unspoiled,  the  meaning  does  not  obscure 
the  action  and  is  not  obscured  by  it.  Yet  it  is  the 
only  fairy  play  which  Yeats  has  written,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  no  other  play  of  his  has  been  so  fre- 
quently performed.  Probably  the  poet  has  found 
that  such  themes  do  not  lend  themselves  to  dramatic 
form.  The  Land  of  Hearfs  Desire  is  more  devoid 
of  dramatic  incident  than  even  The  Countess  Kath- 
leen; both  are  essentially  poems.  Whatever  ele- 
ments of  drama  the  latter  may  contain  are  unex- 
ploited,  but  the  former  contains  no  such  element  at 


ISO   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

all.  Countess  Kathleen's  sacrifice  is  potentially 
dramatic,  the  struggle  between  Father  Hart  and 
the  fairy  for  the  soul  of  Maire  Bruin  has  not  the 
semblance  of  drama.  So  completely  is  the  sym- 
bolism understood,  so  naturally  is  the  situation  felt, 
that  the  question  of  conflict  does  not  rise.  The 
question  was  raised,  it  is  true,  by  contemporary 
objectors  who  professed  to  be  horrified  that  the 
crucifix  should  be  removed  by  the  priest  at  the  re- 
quest of  the  Pagan  child.  These  were  the  same 
primitive  moralists  who  raised  an  outcry  against 
The  Countess  Kathleen,  on  the  ground  that  the  selling 
of  Kathleen's  soul  to  the  demons  was  heresy,  and  a 
libel  upon  the  Irish  people,  while  the  trampling  under 
foot  of  a  shrine  was  pronounced  sacrilegious.  These 
evidences  of  rudimentary  theology  have  long  since 
been  forgotten,  though  they  were  remembered  in 
connection  with  similar  outbursts  against  J.  M. 
Synge.  Most  people  are  content  to  remember  The 
fLand  of  Hearfs  Desire  as  a  beautiful  poem,  for  such 
it  is.  Precisely  the  absence  of  dramatic  emotion 
enables  the  reader  to  appreciate  undisturbed  the 
lyrical  beauty  with  which  the  play  is  so  richly  en- 
dowed. 

There  is  a  certain  irony  in  the  fact  that  Yeats's 
most  successful  play,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
theatre,  should  be  one  he  has  never  had  to  revise, 
and  which  is  written,  not  in  verse,  but  in  prose. 
Cathie  en  ni  Houlihan  was  performed  in  1902  by 
W.  G.  Fay's  Irish  National  Dramatic  Company  in 
Dublin,  and  was  the  first  of  those  folk-dramas  with 
which  the  Irish  National  Theatre  has  become  iden- 
tified. As  we  shall  see  in  a  later  chapter,  this 
Dramatic  Company  was  the  embryo  of  the  Irish 
National,  as  distinct  from  the  short-lived  Irish  Lit- 
erary, Theatre.  Thus,  Yeats's  greatest  dramatic 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS  151 

success  coincided  with  the  inauguration  of  the  Move- 
ment which  has  given  Ireland  a  national  drama. 
The  play  was  favourably  received  at  the  outset,  and 
its  appeal  has  never  failed.  To  the  already  unique 
circumstances  connected  with  it,  therefore,  must  be 
added  the  fact  that,  alone  of  Yeats's  work,  Cathleen 
ni  Houlihan  commands  the  admiration  of  all  sections 
of  Irish  opinion.  The  now  familiar  story  of  Cathleen 
ni  Houlihan's  sudden  appearance  to  Michael  Gil- 
lane  on  the  eve  of  his  wedding,  in  the  tragic  days  of 
1798,  when  "the  French  were  on  sea,"  and  the  hopes 
of  Ireland  were  high,  needs  no  recapitulation. 
Michael  hears  the  voice  of  his  country  in  the  appeal 
of  the  Poor  Old  Woman,  and  no  Irish  audience  could 
fail  to  thrill  in  response  to  that  call.  The  tragedy 
of  the  young  man's  instant  surrender,  his  forsaking 
of  home  and  those  dear  to  him,  stir  the  emotions, 
for  is  this  not  the  tragedy  which  underlies  and  en- 
nobles all  patriotism.  Here  the  symbolism  of  Yeats 
is  seen  to  its  advantage,  for  the  very  absence  of 
specific  local  incidents  raises  the  drama  to  the  plane 
of  the  eternal  verities.  Noble  and  austere,  but  with 
none  of  the  coldness  of  the  abstract,  Cathleen  ni 
Houlihan  is  infused  with  the  warmth  and  passion  of 
poetry  and  life. 

The  Pot  of  Broth  is  often  referred  to  as  the  only 
farce  Yeats  has  written.  It  is  a  retelling  of  the 
popular  folk-tale  which  relates  how  a  crafty  tramp, 
by  dint  of  much  "blarney,"  succeeds  in  tricking  a 
miserly  housewife.  While  he  envelops  her  in  a  cloud 
of  verbosity  and  compliment,  he  obtains  the  in- 
gredients for  a  pot  of  broth,  which  he  had  under- 
taken to  provide  out  of  the  magic  properties  of  a 
stone.  Engrossed  in  the  man's  conversation  she 
fails  to  observe  what  is  happening,  and  is  left  happy 
in  the  possession  of  the  stone  of  whose  magic  she  is 


1 52    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

persuaded.  It  is  an  amusing  trifle,  but  there  is  no 
trace  of  Yeats's  style  in  it.  There  is,  on  the  con- 
trary, every  indication  that  Lady  Gregory  was  the 
writer.  The  slightness  of  the  subject,  the  droll  short 
sentences,  and  the  grotesque  loquacity  of  the  tramp, 
are  now  familar  characteristics  of  Lady  Gregory's 
comedies  and  farces.  Except  for  a  certain  restraint, 
not  visible  in  the  verbal  and  other  exaggerations  of 
such  plays  as  The  Jackdaw  and  Hyacinth  Halvey,  the 
part  of  Yeats  in  The  Pot  of  Broth  is  almost  indiscerni- 
ble. It  was  written  by  Lady  Gregory  in  collabora- 
tion with  the  poet,  in  order  to  supply  the  need  of  the 
newly  inaugurated  National  Theatre  for  folk-plays. 
It  is  significant  that  Yeats  omitted  it  from  the  eight- 
volume  edition  of  his  collected  works  published  in 
1908.  Irish  legend  furnished  the  material  of  The 
Hour  Glass,  a  morality,  which  was  performed  for  the 
first  time  in  1903.  During  the  nine  years  which 
elapsed  before  the  production  of  the  revised  version 
in  1912,  Yeats  had  acquired  a  keener  sense  of  the 
theatre,  and  the  new  play,  as  published  in  1914,  is  a 
more  convincing  conception  than  the  original.  Not 
only  is  the  metrical  form  more  appropriate  than  the 
earlier  prose,  but  the  structural  alterations  have 
strengthened  the  play  intellectually.  As  Yeats  con- 
fesses, there  was  a  charm  in  the  naive  legend  of  the 
Wise  Man  who,  having  destroyed  the  faculty  of 
belief  in  the  community  about  him,  finds  salvation 
in  the  wisdom  of  Teigue,  the  fool,  who  alone  remained 
untouched  by  the  breath  of  scepticism.  But  on  the 
stage  this  charm  was  threatened  by  an  appearance  of 
platitude.  As  now  conceived,  The  Hour  Glass  es- 
capes this  dilemma,  and  is  at  the  same  time  more 
true  to  the  poet's  own  philosophy. 

The  unfolding  of  the  drama  is  more  skilful  than  in 
the  early  version.    The  refusal  of  the  Wise  Man's 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS  153 

pupils  to  admit  that  remnant  of  faith  which  would 
save  him  from  eternal  punishment  is  brought  out  irt  a 
satisfactory  manner;  the  part  of  the  Fool  is  devised 
with  a  clearer  sense  of  proportion.  There  was  some- 
thing too  mechanical  in  his  former  role,  his  relation 
to  the  discussion  of  the  teacher  and  his  pupils  was 
forced  and  arbitrary.  By  subordinating  this  part, 
the  denouement  in  particular  has  been  strengthened. 
Instead  of  being  enlightened  by  the  inadvertent  con- 
fession of  Teigue,  the  Wise  Man  dies  in  ignorance 
of  the  precise  extent  of  the  Fool's  belief.  With  finer 
effect  Yeats  shows  him  accepting  the  Eternal  Will 
and  dying  confidently  in  the  conviction  of  an  ordered 
Destiny.  The  play  still  closes  on  the  same  scene 
in  which  the  Angel  receives  the  soul  of  the  phil- 
osopher and  bears  it  into  Paradise.  There  was,  how- 
ever, something  false  in  the  manner  of  this  consum- 
mation. That  the  Wise  Man  should  accept  the 
artless  wisdom  of  Teigue  did  not  appear  probable. 
For  this  naivete,  so  unconvincing  in  the  theatre, 
Yeats  has  substituted  a  more  fitting  conclusion. 
Recognising  submission  as  the  secret  of  the  Fool's 
salvation,  the  Wise  Man  is  reconciled  to  the  will  of 
God.  In  obedience  to  intuition  he  finds  the  revela- 
tion of  truth.  Where  there  is  Nothing,  like  The  Pot 
of  Broth,  was  excluded  from  the  Collected  Edition  of 
Yeats's  works.  But  the  former  has  been  more  de- 
cisively repudiated  than  the  latter,  inasmuch  as 
The  Pot  of  Broth  has  frequently  been  reprinted,  even 
since  1908.  On  the  other  hand,  Where  there  is  Noth- 
ing has  never  appeared  since  its  first  publication  in 
1903.  When  collecting  his  work  for  the  complete 
edition,  Yeats  selected  the  version  written  with 
Lady  Gregory,  entitled  The  Unicorn  from  the  Stars. 
From  an  explanatory  note  it  appears  that  the  earlier 
play  was  also  written  with  Lady  Gregory's  assist- 


1 54   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

ance.  In  fact,  three  people  collaborated,  and  it  was 
written  in  a  fortnight,  to  "save  from  a  plagiarist  a 
subject  that  seemed  worth  the  keeping  till  greater 
knowledge  of  the  stage  made  an  adequate  treatment 
possible."  As  in  most  of  his  later  prose  work,  evi- 
dence of  Lady  Gregory's  collaboration  was  not  want- 
ing in  Where  there  is  Nothing,  but  in  The  Unicorn 
from  the  Stars  hers  is  the  dominating  presence,  so 
that  the  play  belongs  to  her  rather  than  to  Yeats, 
whose  original  idea  alone  remains. 

The  idea  of  Paul  Ruttledge's  revolt  against  con- 
vention; how  he  allies  himself  with  vagrants  to 
overthrow  the  social  laws  of  respectability  and  even- 
tually, by  seductive  heresy,  draws  with  him  a  section 
of  the  Church  to  the  overturning  of  dogma,  only  to 
die  at  the  hands  of  an  outraged  community — such  a 
theme  was,  indeed,  "worth  the  keeping."  Unfortu- 
nately, neither  the  three  collaborators,  in  the  first 
instance,  nor  the  two,  in  the  second,  have  succeeded 
in  exploiting  it.  If  anything,  Where  there  is  Nothing 
is  superior  to  The  Unicorn  from  the  Stars,  for  there,  at 
least,  Yeats  was  able  to  suggest  the  conditions  which 
produced  Ruttledge's  revolt.  The  play  is  chaotic, 
fragmentary,  a  mere  scenario,  in  a  sense,  despite  its 
length,  which  exceeds  that  of  any  other  play  by  the 
same  author.  But  it  contains  the  elements  of  drama; 
the  situation  is  clearly  determined  and  demands  but  a 
little  careful  elaboration  and  pruning.  It  is,  there- 
fore, a  matter  of  regret  that,  when  Lady  Gregory 
undertook  the  subject,  the  venue  of  the  play  should 
have  been  so  completely  altered.  The  brooding 
young  "heretic,"  whose  rebellion  was  so  natural, 
becomes  the  coach-builder,  Martin  Hearn,  who 
emerges  from  a  cataleptic  trance  seized  with  a  spirit 
of  revolt,  as  a  result  of  a  vision  when  in  that  state.  It 
is  difficult  to  appreciate  exactly  the  nature  of  the  rev- 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS  155 

elation  which  Hearn  brings  back  with  him  from  his 
trance,  and  the  motives  of  all  his  subsequent  actions 
remain,  consequently,  dubious  and  unconvincing. 
The  very  conditions  of  his  life  take  away  from  the 
effect  of  the  change  in  him,  whereas  Paul  Ruttledge, 
the  wealthy  young  idler,  was  admirably  conceived. 
His  desire  for  the  unorthodox,  his  excess  of  zeal  in 
embracing  heresy,  were  the  natural  reactions  of  a  man 
in  his  position  with  such  a  temperament.  When  he 
does  fall  into  a  trance  the  scene  is  not  only  convincing, 
but  adds  materially  to  our  understanding  of  the  sit- 
uation. In  short,  Where  there  is  Nothing  justifies 
Yeats's  original  belief  in  the  merits  of  the  subject. 
The  Unicorn  from  the  Stars  belies  it.  The  "greater 
knowledge  of  the  stage,"  evident  in  the  dialogue,  has 
made  "an  adequate  treatment"  impossible. 

The  first  of  the  mythological  and  legendary  dramas 
is  The  Shadowy  Waters,  which  was  begun  as  early  as 
1897,  and  appeared  in  1900.  No  play  of  Yeats  has 
been  more  often  revised  than  this,  and  one  is  not  sur- 
prised to  learn  that  he  prefers  it  to  any  of  the  others. 
As  first  staged  in  1904,  it  differed  considerably  from 
the  version  published  in  1900,  and  it  was  again 
rewritten  for  publication  in  1906.  The  latter  text 
has  been  retained,  but  it  is  condensed  and  altered 
in  the  acting  edition,  verse  and  prose  being  used, 
instead  of  blank  verse  throughout.  This  modifica- 
tion detracts  noticeably  from  the  charm  of  the  play, 
and  is  a  practical  admission  of  its  unsuitability  to  the 
demands  of  the  theatre.  But  the  beauty  of  The 
Shadowy  Waters  is  so  essentially  poetic,  that  its 
qualities  as  drama  are  easily  forgotten.  One  reads 
it,  as  one  reads  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin,  for  the  sake 
of  its  mood,  the  elusive  mystery  of  its  atmosphere, 
the  delicacy  of  its  expression. 

The  dramatic  claims  of  the  play  may  be  said  never 


i$6   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

to  have  existed;  from  the  earliest  to  the  latest  ver- 
sion the  theme  remains  fundamentally  incapable  of 
dramatic  expression.  Forgael's  quest  for  the  Abso- 
lute symbolised  by  imperishable  love;  his  meeting 
with  Queen  Dectora,  who  offers  him  the  love  of  mor- 
tals, ephemeral  and  unsatisfying  to  the  soul  whose 
pursuit  is  the  eternal,  and  finally  their  union  in  the 
spirit,  when  Forgael  convinces  her  of  the  reality  of 
his  dream — such  is  the  framework  which  the  poet 
has  clothed  with  beautiful  imagery  of  thought  and 
language.  Plot  and  setting  are  vague  and  impal- 
pable, it  is  impossible  to  convey  the  meaning  of  the 
poem  within  the  exigencies  of  the  theatre.  For  it  is 
a  poem  and  nothing  else,  a  fact  which  explains  the 
fondness  of  Yeats  for  this  play  above  all  others. 
The  instinct  of  the  poet,  which  always  predominates 
in  him,  has  kept  him  faithful  to  the  theme  wherein 
he  finds  the  truest  expression  of  himself.  Many 
years  of  constant  preoccupation  have  made  The 
Shadowy  Waters  a  reflection  of  the  poet's  intimate 
thoughts.  How  often  in  the  lyrics  have  we  heard  him 
utter  the  cry  of  Forgael ! 

Could  we  but  give  us  wholly  to  the  dreams, 
And  get  into  their  world  that  to  the  sense 
Is  shadow,  and  not  linger  wretchedly 
Among  substantial  things. 

The  theme  of  The  Shadowy  Waters  is  the  Leitmotiv  of 
Yeats's  poetry. 

The  King's  Threshold  has  been  regarded  as  a  sort 
of  personal  manifesto,  though  it  reveals  less  of  Yeats's 
attitude  towards  life  than  The  Shadowy  Waters. 
The  reason  why  it  has  been  identified  more  closely 
with  the  poet's  personality  is  too  obvious  to  merit 
undue  emphasis.  From  the  old  Irish  prose  Ro- 
mances Yeats  has  selected  the  story  of  the  demands 
made  by  the  poets  at  the  court  of  King  Guaire  of 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS  157 

Gort.  The  play  relates  how  Seanchan,  the  Chief 
Poet  of  Ireland,  starves  on  the  royal  threshold  rather 
than  be  deprived  of  his  right  to  sit  at  the  King's 
table.  The  temptation  to  see  in  Seanchan  the  em- 
bodiment of  Yeats's  own  claim  on  behalf  of  poetry 
was  too  great  to  be  missed.  The  adversaries  of  the 
National  Theatre  movement  eagerly  seized  upon  the 
material  offered  for  some  cheap  sarcasm.  Yeats's 
treatment  of  the  old  romance,  his  vindication  of 
Seanchan,  were  held  to  be  simply  the  outcome  of  his 
own  arrogance.  As  The  Kings  Threshold  was  pro- 
duced at  a  time  when  the  hypermoral  patriots  were 
beginning  their  campaign  against  Synge,  it  had  the 
air  of  being  a  challenge,  and,  like  most  of  Yeats's 
challenges  to  popular  prejudice,  it  drew  forth  the 
inevitable  stream  of  stereotyped  abuse.  Nowadays 
it  is  difficult  to  understand  the  offensiveness  of  the 
various  plays  which  have  excited  the  wrath  of  super- 
sensitive  Gaels. 

The  Kings  Threshold,  in  particular,  is  the  last  play 
one  would  suspect  of  arousing  animosity.  That 
Yeats  should  sympathise  with  the  demand  of  the  old 
Irish  poet,  that  he  should  wish  to  uphold  the  dig- 
nity of  his  craft  is  natural,  but  it  is  labouring  an 
obvious  identity  of  feeling  to  suggest  that  this  play 
is  Yeats's  apologia.  It  lacks,  for  one  thing,  the 
finish  which  might  be  expected  in  the  utterance  of  a 
poet  who  has  always  brought  perfect  craftsmanship 
to  the  expression  of  his  personal  emotions.  Although 
it  has  been  almost  completely  rewritten  since  its  first 
publication  in  1904,  it  does  not  show  traces  of  greater 
perfection.  The  structure  of  the  play  remains  un- 
altered in  essentials,  but  precisely  the  unessentials 
have  been  revised  to  the  detriment  of  the  original. 
The  comic  parts  of  the  mayor  and  the  cripples  are 
now  expanded  in  a  manner  quite  unknown  to  the 


158    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

first  edition.  They  do  not  ring  true,  somehow,  and 
arouse  the  suspicion  of  being,  as  it  were,  interpolated 
at  the  suggestion  of  another.  Their  foolery  seemed 
more  natural  in  its  earlier  form  than  now,  when  it 
reminds  us  too  sharply  of  the  popular  farces  in  which 
"Kiltartan  speech"  provides  the  staple  amuse- 
ment. The  King's  Threshold  retains  many  of  the 
beauties  of  its  original  conception,  which  adhered 
closely  to  the  plan  of  Edwin  Ellis's  Sancan  the  Bard. 
This  forgotten  play,  to  which  Yeats  acknowledges 
his  indebtedness,  was  published  in  1895,  and  has  but 
little  interest,  except  as  showing  how  far  he  has  sur- 
passed his  friend  in  the  interpretation  of  Gaelic 
legend.  Structurally  Sancan  the  Bard  and  the  first 
version  of  The  King's  Threshold  are  almost  identical, 
and  the  superiority  of  the  latter  is  a  demonstration 
of  the  natural  advantage  enjoyed  by  an  Irishman 
in  his  treatment  of  an  Irish  theme.  The  sense  of 
drama  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  that  to  which 
Yeats  has  accustomed  us,  the  poetic  appeal  domi- 
nates the  dramatic,  but  whenever  the  former  weakens, 
the  latter  is  insufficient  to  bear  the  burden  of  inter- 
est. Sancan  the  Bard,  equally  devoid  of  dramatic 
quality,  also  lacks  both  the  spirit  and  the  poetry 
which  compensate  for  this  defect  in  Yeats's  play. 
For  all  its  revision,  however,  The  King's  Threshold  has 
evidently  not  been  dreamed  and  redreamed  like 
The  Shadowy  Waters,  which  is  undoubtedly  the  most 
intimate  reflection  in  dramatic  form  of  the  poet's 
thought. 

In  the  last  chapter  it  was  stated  that  the  poem 
entitled  The  Death  of  Cuchullin  failed  to  realise  the 
poignancy  of  the  episode  in  which  the  warrior,  having 
unwittingly  slain  his  son,  dies  battling  with  the 
waves.  After  an  interval  of  more  than  ten  years 
Yeats  returned  to  the  subject.  On  Baile's  Strand 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS  159 

was  published  in  1904,  in  a  form  no  less  undramatic 
than  the  poem  of  1892.  But  two  years  later  the 
play  was  revised,  and  so  strengthened  as  to  be  among 
the  best  work  Yeats  has  contributed  to  the  theatre. 
Not  that  the  revision  has  enabled  him  to  exploit 
fully  the  tragedy  of  Cuchulain's  encounter  with  his 
son.  The  situation  is  one  which  gives  scope  to  the 
employment  of  the  greatest  tragic  effects,  for  the 
story  contains  all  that  Aristotle  postulated  as  essen- 
tial to  the  plot  of  tragedy.  But  Yeats  does  not  seem 
able  to  take  advantage  of  the  elements  already  pre- 
sented to  him  by  the  subject  itself.  The  classical 
combination  of  the  inevitable  with  the  unexpected  is 
wanting,  while  the  moment  of  recognition  is  inade- 
quately prepared.  Nevertheless,  he  has  corrected 
some  very  serious  mistakes  in  this  connection. 
Formerly  the  identity  of  Cuchulain's  son  was  blurted 
out  early  in  the  play,  instead  of  being  suggested 
by  hints  and  half-revelations,  while  the  necessity 
for  Cuchulain's  combat  with  the  stranger  was  not 
contrived  as  clearly  and  naturally  as  in  the  pres- 
ent edition.  Consequently,  there  was  no  sus- 
pense in  the  original  play,  no  emotion  arising 
out  of  fear  and  pity  in  the  presence  of  the  inexor- 
able. 

As  it  now  stands,  On  Bailees  Strand  is  convincing, 
though  none  of  the  effects  are  prepared  and  height- 
ened, as  they  must  be  if  we  are  to  witness  high 
tragedy.  The  tragic  knot,  if  it  might  be  strength- 
ened by  greater  tension,  is  not  at  least  untied  until 
the  last  moment,  whereas  at  first  it  was  cut  by  the 
pointless  garrulity  of  the  Blind  Man  and  the  Fool, 
who  supply  the  tragi-comic  relief.  Many  fine  pas- 
sages have  been  added  in  the  rewriting,  as  when 
Cuchulain  recalls  her  who  was  to  be  the  mother  of 
his  unknown  child: 


160   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

.  .  .Ah!  Conchubar,  had  you  seen  her 

With  that  high,  laughing,  turbulent  head  of  hers 

Thrown  backward,  and  the  bow-string  at  her  ear 

On  Bailees  Strand  is  an  instance,  not  only  of  Yeats 's 
increased  sense  of  dramatic  fitness,  but  also  of  the 
occasional  reward  which  his  desire  for  revision  brings 
to  him.  Reference  has  already  been  made  to  the 
attraction  exercised  by  the  story  of  Deirdre  upon  the 
Irish  poets  since  Ferguson.  It  is,  therefore,  rather 
strange  that  Yeats  should  not  have  dramatised  the 
irabject  until  comparatively  late.  One  would  have 
thought  that  Deirdre  would  be  among  his  first  con- 
tributions to  the  National  Theatre,  whereas  it  is  the 
second  last  play  he  has  published.  It  is  true,  A.  E.'s 
drama  of  that  name  was  written  expressly  for  the 
Irish  National  Dramatic  Company  in  1902,  and  was 
the  first  offering  of  the  then  embryonic  National 
Theatre.  But  the  mere  question  of  precedence  can 
have  but  little  weight  in  a  case  where  originality  was 
possible  only  in  the  treatment  and  mode  of  expres- 
sion. Deirdre  has  been  to  the  Irish  dramatists  what 
Iphigenia  was  to  the  Greek  poets.  As  ^Eschylus, 
Sophocles  and  Euripides  were  not  afraid  to  challenge 
comparison  in  their  handling  of  an  identical  theme, 
so  the  three  chief  figures  of  the  Literary  Revival  have 
interpreted  the  legend  of  Deirdre.  For  the  moment 
we  are  concerned  with  Yeats,  to  whom  we  shall 
return  at  a  later  stage,  when  the  occasion  demands 
contrast  and  comparison  with  A.  E.  and  Synge,  in 
their  treatment  of  this  subject. 

Yeats's  Deirdre  does  not  suffer  from  being  read 
beside  the  others.  Its  tardy  appearance  is  more 
probably  due  to  his  desire  for  greater  practical  experi- 
ence of  the  theatre,  before  essaying  to  re-create 
from  material  already  so  familiar.  The  result  is  a 
play  which  is  as  skilfully  presented  as  the  limits  of 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS  161 

Yeats's  technique  will  permit.  In  view  of  the  ten- 
dency to  diffuseness  which  has  been  noted,  it  was~ 
wise  to  concentrate  upon  the  crisis  of  Deirdre's 
story,  and  to  make  of  it  one  act.  By  the  introduction 
of  the  musicians,  who  play  the  role  of  a  Greek  chorus, 
he  is  able  to  give  in  outline  the  history  of  the  events 
which  preceded  the  return  of  Naisi  and  Deirdre  to 
the  house  of  Conchubar.  The  use  of  the  chorus  is 
admirable,  dramatic  tension  is  at  once  produced  by 
this  swift  narration  of  what  would  otherwise  have 
dragged  vaguely  and  nervelessly,  destroying  the 
tragic  expectancy  with  which  one  should  follow  the 
final  unfolding  of  the  fateful  history.  The  shadowy 
dream-world  in  which  Yeats  invariably  casts  the 
action  of  his  plays  could  not  have  failed  to  deprive 
Deirdre  of  its  essential  humanity.  Whereas  the  mu- 
sing song  of  the  musicians  puts  us  in  possession  of  the 
facts  necessary  to  the  understanding  of  what  follows, 
and  is,  at  the  same  time,  wholly  in  keeping  with  the 
peculiar  rhythm  of  the  poet's  mind.  Effective,  too, 
is  the  participation  of  the  musicians  in  the  action  of 
the  drama,  notably  the  lovely  song  of  Queen  Edain, 
as  Deirdre  enters. 

All  the  details  of  construction  show  a  marked  ad- 
vance in  Yeats's  command  of  stage  effects.  The 
furtive  swarthy  figures  seen  in  the  background  strike 
a  sinister  note,  the  atmosphere  is  charged  with  sus- 
picion and  treachery,  so  that  the  ensnaring  and  murder 
of  Naisi  strike,  at  last,  an  audience  prepared  by  the 
dramatist's  skill  to  receive  a  full  impression  of 
horror.  It  is  rare  that  Yeats  is  so  successful  in 
awakening  the  proper  emotions  by  the  action  itself. 
More  usually  the  spectator  must  transport  himself 
into  the  far-away  mood  of  the  poet,  before  he  can 
experience  to  the  full  the  meaning  of  the  words  and 
gestures  which  are  but  an  approximate  realisation 


162    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

of  the  author's  intention.  Nevertheless,  Deirdre  is 
still  an  essentially  "Yeatsian"  drama,  the  figures  are 
those  of  a  dream,  for  all  the  conviction  they  derive 
from  the  setting.  Were  it  not  that  the  subject  is 
the  crisis  of  a  tragedy,  Deirdre,  Naisi  and  Conchubar 
would  be  but  the  poetic  expression  of  a  symbolist's 
reverie,  as  he  turns  the  pages  of  Ireland's  legendary 
history. 

Since  1908  Yeats's  dramatic  work  has  been  that  of 
revision,  for  The  Green  Helmet,  published  in  1910,  is  a 
versified  form  of  The  Golden  Helmet,  which  appeared 
in  1908.  The  play  is  but  a  trifle,  and  should  be  read 
as  an  introduction  to  On  Bailees  Strand.  Founded 
on  the  old  Irish  story,  The  Feast  of  Bricriu,  it  relates 
how  Conall  and  Laegaire  were  humiliated  by  the 
Red  Man,  a  Spirit  from  the  sea,  who  inflicted,  by 
demoniacal  arts,  the  stigma  of  cowardice  upon  those 
warriors.  The  hero  Cuchulain  is  able,  by  his  tra- 
ditional courage,  to  defeat  the  supernatural  visitant, 
and  is  rewarded  with  the  golden  helmet,  which  con- 
fers upon  him  the  championship  whose  history  was 
the  greatest  theme  of  bardic  song.  The  Green  Helmet 
is  the  only  farce  of  its  kind  that  has  been  produced; 
for  the  first  time  the  great  figures  of  the  Heroic  Age 
are  presented  in  an  attitude  other  than  that  of  lofty 
nobility,  with  which  tradition  has  associated  them. 
There  is  interesting  satire  in  the  interplay  of  jeal- 
ousies and  petty  quarrels,  when  the  Red  Man  leaves 
the  helmet  to  arouse  dissension  amongst  those  who 
claim  it.  Cuchulain's  wife,  Emer,  his  charioteer, 
Laeg,  and  the  wife  of  Laegaire,  provide  comedy  which 
has  a  special  significance  in  Ireland,  where  the  spirit 
of  faction  symbolised  has  never  wanted  supporters. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  element  of  grotesqueness  and 
comedy  which  prompted  Yeats  to  essay  a  form  of 
verse  entirely  unlike  that  of  his  other  plays.  The 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS  163 

ballad  metre  of  The  Green  Helmet  cannot  be  regarded 
as  so  happy  an  innovation  as  the  introduction  oF 
humour  into  a  play  of  the  Heroic  Age.  The  prose  of 
The  Golden  Helmet  did  not  demand  such  a  change, 
and  ought  to  have  been  retained,  if  the  poet  felt 
that  his  work  could  not  be  versified  within  the  limits 
of  the  verse  forms  most  adapted  to  the  theatre. 

While  analysis  of  the  Yeatsian  drama  usually  pro- 
duces critical  qualification  rather  than  praise,  it  must 
not  be  said  that  Yeats  has  failed  as  a  dramatist.  All  his 
work  for  the  theatre  has  been  of  the  nature  of  experi- 
ment and  propaganda,  and  the  existence  of  an  Irish 
National  Theatre  is  there  to  refute  the  accusation  of 
failure.  When  Lionel  Johnson  suggested  that  Yeats 
wrote  for  the  stage  in  order  to  hear  his  verse  spoken, 
he  was  right.  The  statement  does  not  envisage  all 
the  facts  of  the  case,  it  ignores  the  relation  of  Yeats 
to  the  Dramatic  Movement,  but  in  so  far  as  it  con- 
siders the  purely  personal  side  of  his  dramatic  activities, 
it  is  more  than  a  half  truth.  The  dominant  motive 
in  Yeats's  mind  at  the  time  of  writing  seems  invari- 
ably to  be  the  attainment  of  artistic  perfection  of 
language.  His  commentaries  on  his  own  and  other 
plays,  his  experiments  with  the  psaltery,  all  indicate 
a  preoccupation  with  the  vocal  effects  of  poetic 
drama.  Whenever  he  considers  the  performance  of  a 
play  his  chief  concern  is  for  the  music  of  the  words 
and  the  picturesqueness  of  the  setting.  The  move- 
ments of  the  actors  do  not  engage  his  attention,  ex- 
cept it  be  to  see  that  they  are  reduced  to  a  mini- 
mum. The  stage  effect  of  the  scenes  is  of  less  im- 
portance than  the  picture  within  which  they  must 
take  place.  Everything  that  could  tend  to  lessen 
the  plastic  passive  pose  of  the  actors,  to  distract 
attention  from  their  utterance,  is  thrust  aside.  What 
Yeats  most  ardently  desires  is  a  perfect  setting  which 


164    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

will  charm  the  eye  while  the  diction  of  the  speakers 
delights  the  ear.  Obviously  these  are  ends  which  all 
poetic  dramatists  would  achieve,  and  the  relative 
absence  of  poem-plays  is  the  measure  of  their  success 
and  .  .  .  failure.  For  in  the  theatre  something 
more  is  required  than  artistry  of  voice  and  eye.  But, 
whereas  his  English  colleagues  have  had  to  compete 
with  the  purveyors  of  commercial  drama,  Yeats  has 
helped  to  create  a  theatre  in  which  he  could  secure 
a  hearing.  He  has  thus  been  able  to  make  in  public 
experiments  which  were  denied  to  his  contemporaries 
in  England. 

It  is  only  necessary  to  recall  the  author  of  The 
Wind  Among  the  Reeds  in  order  to  understand  the 
direction  in  which,  given  a  free  hand,  Yeats  would 
experiment.  In  spite  of  his  collaboration  with  Lady 
Gregory,  to  whom  he  undoubtedly  owes  much  of  his 
practical  technique,  he  has  probably  never  conceived 
of  his  plays  as  being  du  theatre,  in  the  ordinary  sense. 
He  has  simply  tried  to  place  his  poems  upon  the 
stage,  with  a  view  to  their  being  heard  by  many 
rather  than  read  by  a  few.  With  the  help  of  every 
artifice — not  excluding  that  of  simplicity — he  has 
worked  to  this  end,  that  a  beautiful  poem  might  live 
and  move  before  the  people.  It  is  here  he  has  suc- 
ceeded, in  spite  of  all  that  criticism  may  urge  against 
his  plays  as  such.  They  are,  almost  without  excep- 
tion, poems  of  undeniable  quality;  they  have 
beauty  and  dignity,  and  they  have  come  into  the 
lives  of  a  public  far  wider  than  could  be  reached  by 
the  printed  word.  What  the  effect  of  this  popular 
contact  with  the  breath  of  lofty  poetry  has  been,  is 
evident  from  the  fact  that  Ireland  possesses  a  theatre 
unique  in  the  countries  where  English  is  spoken,  and 
that  a  Dramatic  Movement  has  flourished  in  that 
country  while  commercialism  produces  stagnation 


W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PLAYS  165 

elsewhere.  If  Bernard  Shaw  has  used  the  theatre 
for  the  propaganda  of  ideas,  Yeats  has  turned  it  to- 
the  account  of  Beauty,  and  who  will  deny  that  his 
contributions  have  been  as  precious  of  their  kind  as1 
those  of  the  author  of  Man  and  Superman?  Both 
have  had  to  sacrifice  something  of  the  dramatic  con- 
ventions to  achieve  their  main  purpose.  But  Yeats's 
failure  as  a  dramatist  is  emphasised  only  by  com- 
parison with  his  success  as  a  poet.  If,  abandoning 
the  antithesis,  one  resolves  to  forget  the  former  in 
the  latter,  the  remarkable  breadth  and  consistent  per- 
fection of  Yeats's  poetic  achievement  become  appar- 
ent. Written,  like  his  poems,  out  of  a  world  of 
dreams  and  fantasies,  his  plays  have  all  the  weird 
magic  and  delicate  charm  that  comes  from  such  a 
vision. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
W.  B.  YEATS:  THE  PROSE  WRITINGS 

IN  addition  to  the  four  plays  that  are  not  written 
in  verse  Yeats   has   formally  acknowledged   a 
large  body  of  prose  work.     Of  the  eight  volumes 
comprising  the  Collected  Edition,  four  are  de- 
voted to  verse  and  as  many  to  prose.     Since  1908 
some  slight  additions  to  the  latter  must  be  made; 
/.  M.  Synge  and  the  Ireland  of  his  Time,  which  ap- 
peared in  1911,  and  was  included  the  next  year  in 
The  Cutting  of  an  Agate,  a  miscellaneous  collection  of 
essays,  published  in  New  York.     Finally,  a  chapter 
of  autobiography  has  just  recently  been  added  to 
these,    Reveries   over    Childhood   and    Youth    (1916). 
Thus,  in  half  a  dozen  volumes  will  be  found  the  vari- 
ous prose  writings  which  we  shall  now  consider  in 
chronological  order. 

Although  he  wrote  at  an  earlier  date  in  the  Irish 
reviews  on  behalf  of  the  new  literature  which  was 
making  Ferguson  and  O'Grady  its  starting-point,  it 
was  not  until  1887  that  Yeats  began  seriously  to  give 
his  attention  to  prose.  In  that  year  he  moved  from 
Dublin  to  London,  where  the  need  and  opportunity 
of  journalistic  activity  arose.  In  1889  he  had  begun 
to  contribute  to  The  Scots  Observer  those  sketches 
which,  with  subsequent  contributions  to  The  National 
Observer,  formed  the  bulk  of  his  first  important 
volume  of  prose,  The  Celtic  Twilight.  This,  however, 
was  not  the  first  prose  book  to  appear  above  Yeats's 
name.  As  editor,  he  was  responsible  for  no  less  than 

166 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS      167 

four  collections  of  Irish  stories,  Fairy  and  Folk  Tales 
of  the  Irish  Peasantry  (1888),  Stories  from  CarleJon 
(1889),  Representative  Irish  Tales  (1890),  and  Irish 
Fairy  Tales  (1892) — all  of  which  served  to  prepare 
the  way  for  his  own  entrance  into  the  same  field. 

This  did  not  occur,  however,  immediately,  for  The 
Celtic  Twilight  was  preceded  by  the  pseudonymous 
John  Sherman  and  Dhoya,  which  appeared  in  1891 
over  the  name  of  "Ganconagh."  Dhoya  is  a  slight 
folk-tale  pastiche,  suggestive  of  the  more  familiar 
stories  which  were  to  follow,  but  without  the  quali- 
ties that  have  enabled  the  latter  to  survive.  John 
Sherman,  on  the  other  hand,  is  unique,  as  being  the 
only  work  of  fiction,  in  the  ordinary  sense,  which 
Yeats  has  published.  It  is  little  more  than  a  novel- 
ette in  size,  but  within  those  limits  the  author  has 
packed  more  careful  observation  and  analysis  than 
are  found  in  many  novels  of  greater  pretensions. 
John  Sherman's  life  in  the  country  town  of  Ballagh, 
his  visit  to  London  and  return  to  his  native  Sligo 
are  probably  autobiographical  to  a  large  extent. 
Particularly  happy  is  the  picture  of  Sherman's  circle 
in  Ballagh;  the  man  himself  and  Mary  Carton  are 
admirable  illustrations  of  character  moulded  by  the 
apparently  narrow  conditions  of  Irish  provincial  life, 
where,  nevertheless,  a  sense  of  the  profundity  of  life 
comes  from  a  slower  and  more  reflective  existence 
than  is  possible  in  the  rapidly-moving  social  and 
industrial  centres.  The  contrast  between  Ballagh 
and  London,  between  Mary  Carton  and  Margaret 
Leland,  is  a  synthesis,  so  to  speak,  of  the  differences 
which  separate  Irish  from  English  conditions.  The 
disinterested  contemplation  of  life  is  more  easily 
found  in  a  country  where,  from  one  cause  and  an- 
other, leisure  is  not  the  prerogative  of  wealth.  The 
story  has  the  most  immaterial  of  plots,  and  hinges 


168   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

entirely  upon  the  clash  of  the  dreamy,  introspective 
Sherman  with  the  hard  facts  and  superficialities  of 
London  life.  It  is  cast  in  a  restrained  and  very  minor 
key,  but  has  all  the  interest  of  a  more  crowded  and 
eventful  narrative.  In  the  creation  of  atmosphere 
and  the  characterisation  of  types  the  chief  merit  of 
John  Sherman  must  be  sought.  So  well  has  Yeats 
sketched  in  his  background,  so  successfully  has  he 
preserved  the  analysis  of  his  characters,  that  one 
regrets  the  isolation  of  this  story.  Had  the  Literary 
Revival  produced  a  novelist,  we  should  have  ex- 
pected him  to  make  this  book  a  point  of  departure. 
Whether  Yeats  himself  could  have  progressed  fur- 
ther in  this  direction  must  remain  a  matter  of  con- 
jecture. John  Sherman  was  written  so  directly  out 
of  the  author's  own  experience  that  it  would  have 
been  unwise  to  insist  upon  its  promise  for  the  future. 
That  Yeats  felt  it  to  be  a  part  of  him  that  was  long 
since  dead  seems  to  be  indicated  by  his  hesitation 
in  publicly  claiming  it  as  his  own.  It  was  not  for- 
mally incorporated  into  the  body  of  his  work  until 
1908,  when  it  at  last  figured  in  the  Collected  Edition. 

The  Celtic  Twilight  was  published  in  1893,  and  re- 
issued in  1902  with  seventeen  additional  chapters. 
This  collection  of  fairy-lore  is  perhaps  the  best  book 
of  prose  Yeats  has  written.  If  the  title  provided 
journalists  with  a  phrase  which  still  serves  to  be- 
labour the  author,  the  work  itself  furnished  some 
interesting  data  as  to  the  formative  influences  to 
which  he  was  subjected  in  his  youth.  Compiled 
from  the  stories  heard  by  Yeats  when  he  wandered 
over  the  countryside  of  Sligo  and  Galway  as  a  young 
man,  The  Celtic  Twilight  is  a  compendium  of  the 
Celtic  folk  literature  still  living  in  the  memory  of  the 
people.  Most  of  the  tales  are  but  slightly  elaborated, 
they  are  free  from  all  comment,  and  present,  there- 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS      169 

fore,  an  interesting  picture  of  the  imaginative  life  of 
Celtic  Ireland.  The  book  is  concerned,  of  course, 
solely  with  the  attitude  of  the  people  towards  what 
we  term  the  supernatural,  the  spirit  world  that  is 
about  us.  In  a  series  of  sketches  Yeats  illustrates 
how  intimate  is  the  relation  between  the  visible  and 
invisible  world  in  the  minds  of  the  peasantry  who 
have  preserved  intact  the  faculty  of  belief  and  vision. 
To  them  every  hillside  and  forest  is  filled  with  mys- 
terious presences  who  may  at  any  time  reveal  them- 
selves. Not  all  are  like  the  man  of  whom  we  are 
told  the  complaint:  "By  the  cross  of  Jesus!  how 
shall  I  go?  If  I  pass  by  the  hill  of  Dunboy  old 
Captain  Burney  may  look  out  on  me.  If  I  go  round 
by  the  water,  and  up  by  the  steps,  there  is  the  head- 
less one  and  another  on  the  quays,  and  a  new  one 
under  the  old  churchyard  wall.  If  I  go  round  the 
other  way,  Mrs.  Stewart  is  appearing  at  Hillside 
Gate,  and  the  devil  himself  is  in  the  hospital  lane." 
For  him  the  world  was  full  enough  of  spirits,  but 
they  were  not  of  a  kind  to  which  he  felt  attracted. 
This  is  not  the  usual  attitude,  as  Yeats  points  out. 
His  stories,  in  the  main,  depict  people  who  have  con- 
trived the  most  friendly  relations  with  the  super- 
human. The  fairies  and  spirits  that  haunt  them 
are  no  longer  objects  of  fear;  they  are  part  of  every- 
day life  and  on  occasion  may  come  to  ask  a  favour 
or  to  render  one. 

So  impressed  is  the  author  by  this  pleasant  inter- 
course that  he  is  impelled  to  write  A  Remonstrance 
with  Scotsmen  for  having  soured  the  disposition  of  their 
Ghosts  and  Faeries,  a  charming  piece  of  humour,  in 
which  Scotland  and  Ireland  are  contrasted  in  their 
treatment  of  sprites  and  goblins.  "You  have  dis- 
covered the  faeries  to  be  pagan  and  wicked.  You 
would  have  them  all  up  before  the  magistrate.  In 


170   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Ireland  warlike  mortals  have  gone  amongst  them  in 
their  battles,  and  they  in  turn  have  taught  them 
great  skill  with  herbs.  ...  In  Scotland  you  have 
denounced  them  from  the  pulpit.  In  Ireland  they 
have  been  permitted  by  the  priests  to  consult  them 
on  the  state  of  their  souls."  The  Celtic  Twilight  is 
simply  a  detailed  picture  of  the  happy  state  of  affairs 
which  prompted  this  Remonstrance.  It  describes  a 
world  in  which  the  natural  and  the  supernatural, 
Christianity  and  Paganism,  are  so  closely  allied  that 
they  blend  into  a  special  and  characteristic  Weltan- 
schauung. Maeve  and  Angus  are  still  visible  in  this 
twilight  of  the  Celtic  imagination,  where  the  traditions 
of  another  time  and  another  creed  have  not  yet  been 
effaced.  "We,"  writes  Yeats,  "exchange  civilities 
with  the  world  beyond,"  and  he  reproaches  Scots- 
men with  having  allowed  theology  to  break  such  inter- 
course in  Scotland!  It  is  just  this  "exchange  of 
civilities,"  the  sense  of  fellowship  with  Nature,  which 
has  moulded  the  character  of  Irish  literature.  Only 
the  existence  of  a  highly  sensitive  imagination  can 
account  for  the  continued  exercise  of  this  faculty  of 
vision,  commonly  identified  with  the  superstitions 
of  primitive  races.  The  Celtic  Twilight  does,  at 
times,  appear  to  countenance  too  readily  the  less 
spiritual  manifestations  of  belief,  but,  for  the  most 
part,  the  theories  suggest  imaginative  strength  rather 
than  credulous  weakness.  That  they  should  be  the 
substance  of  the  young  poet's  note-books  is  a  fact 
which  helps  to  explain  the  direction  in  which  his  own 
imaginative  life  expanded.  When  he  set  himself  de- 
liberately towards  the  goal  of  national  culture  his 
intellectual  impulse  had  been  strengthened  by  the 
emotional  experiences  of  this  early  intercourse  with 
Celtic  Ireland. 

In  1897  Yeats  published   The  Secret  Rose  and  The 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS      171 

Tables  of  the  Law  and  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  a 
collection  of  stories  foreshadowing  The  Wind  Among _ 
the  Reeds,  which  presented  in  1899  the  quintessence 
of  the  mysticism  here  illustrated  in  prose.  The 
homogeneity  of  the  stories  is  such  that  the  smaller 
book  may  be  counted  a  part  of  the  larger,  The  Secret 
Rose,  which  is  rightly  regarded  as  the  complete  ex- 
pression of  Yeats's  attitude  towards  the  spirit  world. 
Since  its  first  appearance  the  author  has  more  than 
once  separated  and  rearranged  the  contents.  Thus, 
in  1904  the  Stories  of  Red  Hanrahan  were  published 
independently  of  the  remaining  text  of  The  Secret 
Rose,  and  have  not  been  restored  to  subsequent  edi- 
tions. In  their  latest  guise  they  appear  in  one 
volume,  but  without  the  original  unity  of  title,  as 
Stories  of  Red  Hanrahan,  The  Secret  Rose  and  Rosa 
Alchemic  a.  Except  in  so  far  as  this  1913  edition 
brings  together  again  material  which  should  never 
have  been  broken  up,  its  raison  d'etre  is  far  to  seek. 
Few  who  are  familiar  with  the  earliest  form  will  ap- 
prove of  the  latest  versions,  where  Kiltartan  speech 
is  substituted  for  the  delicate  prose  in  which  the 
stories  were  first  written.  The  desire  to  be  "in  the 
tradition  of  the  people  among  whom  he,  or  some 
likeness  of  him,  drifted  and  is  remembered"  was  the 
reason  given  by  the  author  for  rewriting  Stories  of 
Red  Hanrahan,  which  was  the  beginning  of  the  proc- 
ess which  has  resulted  in  a  remoulding  of  the  entire 
series.  As  published  in  1897,  The  Secret  Rose  ad- 
mitted of  a  certain  simplification  of  content,  if  not 
of  form.  The  selection  of  the  Hanrahan  stories  in: 
1904  for  a  simplified  retelling  might  have  been* 
counted  as  an  improvement,  had  the  matter  been 
reduced  to  its  essential  elements  and  freed  from  a 
too  insistent  preoccupation  with  occult  effects.  The 
mere  introduction  of  peasant  idiom  cannot,  however, 


172    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

be  regarded  as  compensation  for  the  loss  arising  out 
of  a  mistaken  conception  of  the  need  for  simplicity. 
In  the  American  edition  of  this  volume  the  process 
of  simplification  has  shorn  even  The  Secret  Rose 
of  many  beauties  unspoiled  by  revision  in  the  English 
publication.  The  substance  of  The  Secret  Rose  and 
kindred  stories  is  akin  to  that  of  The  Celtic  Twilight, 
in  that  both  works  are  an  attempt  to  portray  vis- 
ionary Ireland.  Fairy  lore  and  legend  are  again 
put  under  contribution,  and  are  woven  into  a  deli- 
cate fabric  by  the  imagination  of  the  poet.  But  the 
earlier  work  is  concerned  with  the  simpler  visions  of 
the  peasant  mind,  whereas  The  Secret  Rose,  as  its 
very  title  indicates,  is  influenced  strongly  by  the 
doctrines  of  the  intellectual  mystics,  those  whose 
beliefs  are  something  more  conscious  and  reasoned 
than  the  native,  instinctive  mysticism  of  the  Celtic 
countryside.  The  commentator  of  Blake,  the  dis- 
ciple of  Sar  Peladan,  is  now  in  evidence.  His  form 
has  become  more  impeccable,  his  style  is  wonder- 
fully adapted  to  the  thought  of  the  narrator,  but 
his  former  simplicity  of  manner  has  disappeared. 
The  na'ive,  artless  stories  of  The  Celtic  Twilight  are 
transformed  by  a  mind  that  has  been  fed  on  Boehme 
and  Swedenborg.  Many,  however,  such  as  Rosa 
Alchemica,  are  the  direct  product  of  the  author's 
studies  of  the  occult. 

Regarded  as  "tales  of  mystery  and  imagination," 
Rosa  Alchemica  and  The  Tables  of  the  Law  have  an 
interest  which  quite  justifies  their  existence.  They 
are  written  with  great  skill;  the  atmosphere  of  the 
supernatural,  and  an  evident  acquaintance  with  the 
paraphernalia  of  alchemy  and  occultism,  combine  to 
give  an  impression  of  mystery  and  reality  which  suc- 
cessfully appeals  to  the  reader.  Similarly,  in  the 
narratives  drawn  from  Irish  legend,  Yeats  utilises 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS      173 

to  their  advantage  the  knowledge  of  mystic  teaching 
and  cabalistic  formulae  which  he  had  gleaned  fronV 
various  sources.  Coupled  with  the  peculiar  style, 
at  once  highly  artificial  and  very  simple,  in  which 
the  stories  are  told,  these  elements  of  mysticism 
complete  the  special  charm  of  The  Secret  Rose. 
They  correspond  in  his  thought  to  the  studied  sim- 
plicity of  his  style,  both  are  the  product  of  an  arti- 
fice, and  are  so  complementary  as  to  make  the  book  a 
consummate  piece  of  artistry.  One  has  only  to 
compare  Red  Hanrahan  in  its  recent  Kiltartan  garb 
with  its  original  appearance  to  see  how  inseparable 
are  form  and  matter  in  the  original  volume,  The 
Secret  Rose.  To  make  the  stories  convincing  in 
peasant  speech  they  must  be  emptied  of  all  the  eso- 
teric content  which  harmonised  with  the  mood  and 
language  of  their  first  telling.  To  some  extent  this 
was  done  when  the  Hanrahan  stories  were  published 
separately  in  1904,  but  they  have  not  been  reduced 
to  the  essentials  whose  directness  and  simplicity  of 
outline  would  permit  of  their  being  rewritten  "  nearer 
to  the  mind  of  the  country  places."  Hanrahan  is 
still,  as  the  poet  conceived  him,  "the  simplicity  of  an 
imagination  too  changeable  to  gather  permanent 
possessions."  Symbolism  of  this  kind  does  not  seem 
congruous  with  the  dialect  of  Kiltartan.  Douglas 
Hyde's  Casadh  an  tsugain,  treating  of  one  of  Yeats's 
Hanrahan  episodes,  is  better  calculated  to  reach  the 
folk  imagination  than  the  belated  simplifications  of 
The  Secret  Rose. 

It  is  not  until  the  mysticism  of  the  book  is  ex- 
amined from  an  intellectual  point  of  view  that  one 
fully  realises  how  fundamentally  literary  it  is.  Not 
for  nothing  are  form  and  content  so  necessary  to  one 
another.  What  was  stated  of  The  Wind  Among 
the  Reeds  is  true  of  The  Secret  Rose,  their  mysticism 


174   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

is  decorative,  or  at  best  symbolic,  and  must  not  be 
interrogated  too  closely  for  a  revelation  of  doctrinal 
certainty.  Yeats  has  heard  the  mystic  messages  of 
Blake  and  Boehme,  but  he  does  not  appear  to 
have  correlated  the  various  teachings  of  his  masters 
into  any  coherent  body  of  belief.  While  he  him- 
self may  find  a  personal  satisfaction  in  a  certain 
wavering  and  nebulous  theosophy,  his  own  utter- 
ances are  hardly  sufficiently  substantial  to  help  the 
uninitiated.  The  transcendental  common-sense  of 
the  true  mystic  cannot  but  be  shocked  at  Red  Han- 
rahan's  vision  in  which  the  lovers  had  "heart-shaped 
mirrors  instead  of  hearts,  and  they  were  looking  and 
ever  looking  on  their  own  faces  in  one  another's 
mirrors."  This  is  obviously  no  mystic's  vision,  but 
simply  the  conceit  of  a  poet,  a  symbol  not  without 
literary  charm.  More  fundamental  is  the  weakness 
revealed  by  such  an  allusion  as  that,  in  Rosa  Al- 
chemica,  to  beings  "each  wrapped  in  his  eternal 
moment,  in  the  perfect  lifting  of  an  arm,  in  a  little 
circlet  of  rhythmical  words."  The  eternal  moment 
does  not  come  to  the  mystic  in  another's  conception 
of  him,  and  "the  perfect  lifting  of  an  arm"  has  no 
other  sense  but  that  it  is  a  purely  external  idea  of 
perfection  as  seen  by  another.  Mysticism  teaches 
that  the  eternal  moment  is  one  of  self-realisation,  it 
is  subjective  not  objective.  The  highest  moment 
of  a  man's  life  is  fixed  by  himself,  and  cannot  be  a 
beautiful  gesture,  which  is  felt  to  be  such  only  by  an 
onlooker.  These  two  points,  which  might  be  mul- 
tiplied by  reference  to  other  stories,  illustrate  pre- 
cisely the  two  aspects  of  Yeats's  mysticism.  It  is 
either  symbolism  or  ornament.  The  visions  of 
others  have  supplied  him  with  rich  material  for  his 
art,  which  is  essentially  external.  A  "circlet  of 
rhythmical  words,"  a  beautiful  movement  of  the 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS       175 

body,  these  are  things  upon  which  his  poetic  imag- 
ination seizes,  and  who  will  deny  that  he  has  thereby 
achieved  effects  of  great  beauty?  Whatever  of  mys- 
ticism he  possesses  is  far  more  closely  related  to  the 
fairy  beliefs  of  the  people  than  to  the  intellectual 
doctrines  of  the  great  mystics.  There  is  a  note  of 
sincerity,  therefore,  in  The  Celtic  Twilight  which  one 
misses  in  the  more  elaborate  stones  of  The  Secret 
Rose.  But  the  latter  is  the  more  finished  work  from 
the  point  of  view  of  technique.  In  this  it  resembles 
The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds,  the  product  of  the  same 
mood  and  similarly  more  perfect  in  its  art  than  the 
poems  which  preceded  it.  Just  as  many  prefer  the 
verse  prior  to  1899,  so  they  will  put  The  Celtic  Twi- 
light above  its  successor.  It  is  useless  to  seek,  in 
either  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds  or  The  Secret  Rose, 
any  intelligible  statement  of  mysticism.  Both  are 
primarily  the  work  of  an  artist  rather  than  a  thinker, 
and  may  be  enjoyed  to  the  full  as  such.  They  are 
rich  in  beauty  of  style  and  abound  in  evidences  of  a 
sensitive  yet  powerful  imagination.  As  contribu- 
tions to  the  literature  of  fantasy  and  symbol  they 
have  a  value  transcending  that  which  must  always 
entitle  them  to  a  high  place  in  the  history  of  the 
Literary  Revival. 

The  essays  of  Yeats,  though  numerous,  have  been 
only  in  part  reprinted.  The  early  years  of  journal- 
ism in  London  saw  him  engaged  in  a  great  deal  of 
journeyman  work — prefaces  to  editions  and  anthol- 
ogies of  Irish  authors,  book  reviews  and  the  like — 
which  he  has  allowed  to  remain  uncollected.  All 
this  writing  was  good  propaganda,  and  had  consid- 
erable influence  in  defining  and  asserting  the  posi- 
tion of  modern  Anglo-Irish  literature.  If  it  does  not 
find  a  place  in  the  list  of  his  published  works,  the 
fault  must  be  attributed  to  the  necessarily  ephemeral 


176   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

nature  of  most  journalism.  Nevertheless  not  all  of 
this  propagandist  work  has  been  rejected,  as  may 
be  seen  from  the  essays  included  in  the  Collected 
Edition  of  Yeats's  works. 

The  earliest  and  most  important  book  of  essays, 
Ideas  of  Good  and  Evil,  was  published  in  1903,  and 
was  followed  in  1907  by  Discoveries,  a  much  smaller 
collection,  issued  semi-privately  by  the  Dun  Emer 
Press,  now  known  as  the  Cuala  Press,  and  conducted 
by  a  sister  of  the  poet.  This  mode  of  publication 
was  adopted  for  the  subsequent  volumes  of  prose, 
Poetry  and  Ireland  (1908)  and  /.  M.  Synge  and  the 
Ireland  of  his  Time  (191 1).  But  so  slight  are  all  three 
that  they  have  been  incorporated  with  some  other 
essays  into  the  volume,  The  Cutting  of  an  Agate, 
which  was  published  in  New  York  in  1912.  Upon 
this  book,  and  Ideas  of  Good  and  Evil,  rests  the  claim 
of  Yeats  to  be  considered  as  an  essayist.  They  con- 
tain all  the  essays  included  in  the  Collected  Edition, 
except  the  articles  from  Beltaine,  Samhain  and  its 
supplement,  The  Arrow.  These  publications,  which 
ran  respectively  from  1899  to  1900,  and  from  1903 
to  1908,  are  evidence  of  the  energy  and  enthusiasm 
with  which  Yeats  forwarded  the  Dramatic  Move- 
ment, but  they  do  not  add  anything  to  the  author's 
reputation  as  an  essayist,  unless  it  be  to  reveal  his 
skill  in  controversy.  They  do,  however,  provide 
data  relating  to  the  history  of  the  Irish  Theatre 
worthy  of  preservation,  as  the  original  publications 
are  difficult  to  obtain. 

The  priority  of  Ideas  of  Good  and  Evil  would  alone 
be  sufficient  to  explain  the  precedence  which  it  has 
taken  in  the  works  of  W.  B.  Yeats.  It  was  the  first 
contribution  of  its  kind  made  by  him,  and  that,  too, 
at  a  time  when  he  had  not  yet  obtained  the  degree  of 
recognition  which  he  now  enjoys.  The  essays  which 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS      177 

appeared  subsequently  were  not  issued  to  catch  the 
attention  of  the  general  public,  so  that  it  was  not 
until  nine  years  later  that  The  Cutting  of  an  Agate 
supplied  a  companion  volume  to  that  of  1903.  Dur- 
ing that  interval  Yeats  had  arrived;  and  his  work 
was  receiving  the  customary  measure  of  conventional 
praise,  instead 'of  the  no  less  traditionally  suspicious 
criticism  accorded  to  those  not  yet  accepted.  Ideas 
of  Good  and  Evil  met  with  the  latter  rather  than  the 
former  reception,  and,  therefore,  drew  upon  itself  an 
amount  of  critical  attention  which  his  more  recent 
essays  have  escaped.  It  was  pronounced  by  some 
stilted  and  precious,  by  others,  the  clearest  and  most 
flexible  prose  Yeats  had  written.  The  accusation 
derives  justification  from  a  comparison  between  this 
book  and  The  Celtic  Twilight.  The  wistfulness  and 
spontaneity  of  that  early  prose  are  gone,  but  gone 
also  is  the  mood  of  which  it  was  the  expression. 
Ideas  of  Good  and  Evil  is  the  work  of  the  author  of 
The  Secret  Rose,  who  is  indeed  a  changed  man  from 
him  who  wrote  The  Last  Gleeman  and  A  Visionary. 
The  Yeats  who  revealed  in  1897  his  preoccupation 
with  magic  and  alchemy,  whose  mind  had  become 
filled  with  the  dreams  and  images  of  mystic  symbol- 
ism, could  not  but  allow  these  things  to  colour  his 
prose.  The  change  which  we  saw  creeping  into  his 
writing  in  The  Secret  Rose,  and  becoming  more  pro- 
nounced in  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds,  had  become 
a  permanent  condition  when  Ideas  of  Good  and  Evil 
appeared.  Given,  therefore,  the  complexion  of  Yeats's 
thought,  it  may  be  asked  whether  the  last-men- 
tioned work  is  really  deserving  of  the  censure  passed 
upon  it.  If  "the  style  is  the  man,"  then  Ideas  of 
Good  and  Evil  is  a  perfect  portrait  of  the  author. 
Its  defects  are  not  literary  but  intellectual.  Those 
who  complain  of  preciosities  and  obscurities  are  sim- 


178    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

ply  engaged  in  denouncing  the  ideas  of  Yeats.  Once 
it  is  recognised  that  the  mysticism  he  teaches  is 
merely  an  attempt  to  explain  theoretically  an  artistic 
instinct,  then  the  charge  of  artificiality  and  obscurity 
falls  to  the  ground. 

There  are  two  motives  which  predominate  in  the 
essays  of  Yeats,  the  mystic  and  the  literary.  Where 
he  speaks  of  literature  he  is  clear  and  convincing, 
where  he  expounds  his  mysticism  he  is  obscure  and 
weak,  and  it  is  in  the  latter  chapters  precisely  that 
he  lays  himself  open  to  the  accusations  we  have  just 
noted.  Compare  the  essays  What  is  "Popular 
Poetry"?  Ireland  and  the  Arts  and  The  Celtic  Element 
in  Literature  with  those  entitled  Magic,  The  Sym- 
bolism of  Poetry  and  The  Philosophy  of  Shelley's 
Poetry.  Reading  the  three  last  mentioned  the  mind 
is  soothed  by  the  cadence  of  the  author's  phrases; 
he  has  the  gift  of  enfolding  generalities  in  a  network 
of  elusive  images,  and  sentences  which  have  all  the 
impressive  obscurity  of  a  dream.  But,  when  one 
has  shaken  off  the  suggestion,  little  remains  except 
the  familiar  commonplaces  which  were  the  point  of 
departure.  On  the  contrary,  the  first  three  essays 
referred  to  are  a  concise  statement  of  the  postulates 
upon  which  the  Literary  Revival  is  based,  and  con- 
tain, incidentally,  a  definition  of  Yeats's  own  position 
in  modern  literature.  "It  was  years  before  I  could 
rid  myself  of  Shelley's  Italian  light,"  he  writes  in 
Ireland  and  the  Arts,  "but  now  I  think  my  style  is 
myself.  I  might  have  found  more  of  Ireland  if  I  had 
written  in  Irish,  but  I  have  found  a  little,  and  I  have 
found  all  myself." 

This  essay  and  What  is  "Popular  Poetry"?  are  the 
most  interesting  pieces  of  self-criticism  the  poet  has 
given  us.  In  the  latter  he  confesses  his  youthful 
error  in  believing  that  popular  poetry — the  poetry  of 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS      179 

Longfellow  or  Mrs.  Hemans,  and  of  the  generation  of 
Anglo-Irish  writers  preceding  the  Revival — had 
special  virtues  which  raised  it  above  the  verse  of 
"the  coteries."  As  he  discovered,  the  people  in  Ire- 
land do  not  separate  "the  idea  of  an  art  or  a  craft 
from  the  idea  of  a  cult  with  ancient  technicalities 
and  mysteries."  Here,  then,  is  a  reason  for  the 
return  to  folk-literature  which  has  been  so  important 
a  feature  of  the  Revival.  The  unwritten  tradition 
may  be  found  where  "the  counting  house"  has  not 
created  "  a  new  class  and  a  new  art  without  breeding 
and  without  ancestry."  Irish  folk-lore  is,  therefore, 
not  only  valuable  because  of  the  Celtic  breath  that 
lives  in  it,  but  because  its  literary  traditions  are  un- 
spoiled. In  The  Celtic  Element  in  Literature  Yeats 
shows  how  these  traditions  are  of  value  to  those  who 
would  revitalise  modern  poetry.  .  .  .  "Literature 
dwindles  to  a  mere  chronicle  of  circumstance,  or 
passionless  phantasies  and  passionless  meditations, 
unless  it  is  constantly  flooded  with  the  passions  and 
beliefs  of  ancient  times."  The  fountains  of  these 
ancient  passions  and  beliefs  in  Europe  are  the  Sla- 
vonic, the  Finnish,  the  Scandinavian  and  the  Celtic. 
But  as  the  Celtic  has  for  centuries  been  closer  to  the 
general  stream  of  European  literature,  what  could  be 
more  natural,  therefore,  than  to  turn  to  it  again 
for  the  vivifying  element  contained  within  it? 
"Irish  legends  move  among  known  woods  and  seas," 
unlike  those  of  Scandinavian  and  Slavic  origin,  and 
have  "so  much  of  a  new  beauty  that  they  may  well 
give  the  opening  century  its  most  memorable  sym- 
bols." These  words  were  written  in  1897,  and 
though  the  hope  they  reveal  has  been  but  partially 
realised  so  far  as  English  literature  is  concerned,  the 
realisation  has  been  complete  in  Ireland. 

It  is  possible,  doubtless,  to  insist  too  much  upon 


i8o   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

"the  Celtic  note,"  so  frequently  pointed  out  in  the 
work  of  certain  English  and  American  poets.  Few, 
however,  will  deny  that  the  return  to  national  tra- 
ditions on  the  part  of  the  Irish  poets  has  produced 
some  of  the  best  contemporary  poetry  in  the  English 
language.  Yet  Yeats  himself  does  not  claim  this  as  a 
special  virtue  of  the  Celt,  as  such.  In  point  of  fact 
The  Celtic  Element  in  Literature  may  be  recommended 
to  all  those  Celtophobes  who  fear  so  greatly  lest 
undue  credit  be  given  to  Ireland  and  her  literature. 
If  Yeats  accepts  the  too  familiar  judgments  of  Ar- 
nold and  Renan  on  Celtic  literature,  he  does  so  on 
condition  of  defining  their  now  stereotyped  terms. 
The  "glamour"  and  "melancholy,"  the  "magic" 
and  "reaction  against  the  despotism  of  fact"  are 
obviously  not  the  peculiar  prerogatives  of  the  Celt, 
but  spring  from  causes  common  to  all  ancient 
peoples.  It  happens  that,  for  various  reasons  partly 
suggested  in  the  course  of  this  work,  Ireland  has 
retained  more  of  these  primitive  qualities,  which 
have  been  preserved  by  the  presence  of  a  language 
uninfluenced  by  modern  conceptions  of  life.  Our 
"natural  magic,"  writes  Yeats,  "is  but  the  ancient 
religion  of  the  world,  the  ancient  worship  of  nature 
and  that  troubled  ecstasy  before  her,  that  certainty 
of  all  beautiful  places  being  haunted,  which  it  brought 
into  men's  minds."  No  more  effective  and  simpler 
statement  of  the  case  for  the  Irish  literary  renascence 
could  be  made  than  this  essay.  Ideas  of  Good  and 
Evil  is,  in  the  main,  a  defence  of  Yeats's  own  ideas, 
and  an  exposition  of  the  theories  underlying  the  lit- 
erature which  he  has  helped  by  precept  and  example 
to  create.  There  are  few  aspects  of  modern  Anglo- 
Irish  poetry  which  have  not  been  treated  in  the 
course  of  this  volume.  Speaking  to  the  Psaltery,  for 
example,  explains  how  the  poet  would  have  his 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS       181 

verses  spoken,  and  forms  a  useful  commentary  on  the 
dramatic  works  of  the  author,  especially  when  read 
in  connection  with  the  later  chapter,  The  Theatre. 
When  one  has  come  to  understand  Yeats's  feeling 
for  diction,  his  theory  of  spoken  verse,  an  increased 
measure  of  sympathy  and  attention  is  assured  to  the 
performance  of  his  plays.  The  elaborate  study  of 
elocution  evidenced  by  his  constant  and  serious  pre- 
occupation with  this  question  confirms  the  well- 
known  suggestion  of  Lionel  Johnson.  Johnson,  it 
will  be  remembered,  held  that  Yeats's  main  interest 
in  the  theatre  came  from  his  desire  to  hear  his  poetry 
spoken.  At  all  events,  that  desire  has  been  always 
present,  though  it  cannot  have  been  the  deciding 
motive  which  led  Yeats  almost  to  forsake  lyric 
poetry  in  order  to  give  his  best  energies  to  the  stage. 
The  affairs  of  the  Irish  National  Theatre  and  the 
Irish  Players,  the  practical  work  incidental  to  the 
Dramatic  Movement,  have  so  engaged  the  activities 
of  Yeats  that  he  has  not  had  the  leisure  to  give 
another  volume  like  Ideas  of  Good  and  Evil.  In  the 
preface  to  The  Cutting  of  an  Agate  he  explains  the 
circumstances  which  prevented  him  from  writing 
any  leisurely  prose  between  1902  and  1912.  "For 
some  ten  years  now  I  have  written  little  verse  and 
no  prose  that  did  not  arise  out  of  some  need  of  those 
players  or  some  thought  suggested  by  their  work. 
...  I  have  been  busy  with  a  single  art,  that  of  the 
theatre,  of  a  small,  unpopular  theatre."  With  the 
exception  of  Discoveries,  reprinted  from  the  little 
book  published  semi-privately  in  1907,  the  essays  in 
The  Cutting  of  an  Agate  cannot  be  compared  with 
those  of  Ideas  of  Good  and  Evil,  which  remains  the 
most  important  work  of  its  kind  Yeats  has  yet 
written.  As  stated  in  the  preface,  this  recent  col- 
lection is  the  creature  of  circumstances,  almost  every 


182   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

chapter  having  been  written  to  meet  the  demand  of 
the  moment  for  propaganda  or  explanation.  /.  M. 
Synge  and  the  Ireland  of  his  Time,  prefaces  to  works 
of  Synge  and  Lady  Gregory — these  essays  are  typical 
of  much  of  Yeats's  prose-writing  during  the  past 
decade.  Three  hundred  pages  of  the  Collected  Edi- 
tion are  devoted  to  matters  of  this  kind,  rescued  from 
the  pages  of  Beltaine,  Samhain  and  The  Arrow,  the 
first  the  organ  of  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre,  the 
others  the  "occasional  periodical"  of  the  Irish 
National  Theatre.  When  considering  the  Dramatic 
Movement  we  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  referring 
to  this  portion  of  Yeats's  work,  which  is  interesting 
in  direct  relation  to  the  occasion  of  its  production, 
rather  than  as  a  general  contribution  to  literature. 
Discoveries  may  be  classed  with  Ideas  of  Good  and 
Evil,  to  which,  indeed,  it  might  be  considered  an 
appendix,  so  brief  and  fragmentary  are  the  ma- 
jority of  the  essays.  They  belong  to  the  same  mood 
as  the  older  book,  though  the  lapse  of  years,  with  the 
exigencies  of  propagandist  and  practical  work,  has 
noticeably  modified  them.  Yeats's  concern  for  the 
Irish  Theatre  is  constantly  obtruding  itself,  his 
thoughts  are  haunted  by  the  various  problems  and 
experiences  which  have  come  to  him  in  the  pursuit 
of  this  object.  Characteristically,  however,  the  old 
love  of  the  remote  and  indefinite  persists.  Prophet, 
Priest  and  King,  for  all  its  grandeur  of  title,  is  sim- 
ply a  reminiscence  of  a  visit  to  a  country  town  with 
the  Irish  Players.  Having  described  the  unpromis- 
ing material  of  which  the  audience  was  composed, 
and  his  dissatisfaction  with  the  play  as  a  means  of 
awakening  a  loutish  crowd  to  a  sense  of  beauty  and 
spirituality,  Yeats  concludes:  "If  we  poets  are  to 
move  the  people,  we  must  reintegrate  the  human 
spirit  in  our  imagination  .  .  .  you  cannot  have 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS     183 

health  among  a  people  if  you  have  not  prophet^ 
priest  and  king."  The  title  and  concluding  sentence 
are  in  the  traditionally  impressively  vague  manner, 
entirely  incongruous  with  the  subject  of  the  poet's 
reflections.  Abstract  and  symbolical  embroidery 
upon  some  familiar  theme,  how  difficult  it  is  for  him 
to  resist  it!  Nevertheless,  Discoveries  is  compara- 
tively free  from  this  peculiarity  so  marked  in  the 
earlier  verse  and  prose  of  Yeats.  Contact  with 
practical  questions  has  purged  his  mind  of  much 
that  was  mere  decoration,  and  which  gave  to  his 
writing  an  impersonal,  almost  inhuman  touch.  Cold, 
elaborate  and  visionary,  he  seemed  often  to  be  float- 
ing dreamily  in  a  mist  of  half-divined  ideas. 

A  most  interesting  passage,  in  this  connection, 
occurs  in  the  essay,  The  Tree  of  Life,  where  the  artist 
is  reproached  with  taking  over-much  to  heart,  "that 
old  commandment  about  seeking  after  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven."  The  poet  had  set  out,  he  tells  us,  with 
the  thought  of  putting  his  "very  self"  into  poetry; 
which  he  understood  to  mean  a  representation  of  his 
own  visions.  Instead,  however,  of  realising  himself, 
he  confesses  he  had  come  to  care  "for  nothing  but 
impersonal  beauty,"  because,  "as  I  imagined  the 
visions  outside  myself,  my  imagination  became  full 
of  decorative  landscape  and  of  still  life."  It  would 
be  difficult  to  find  a  phrase  which  summarises  more 
aptly  the  impression  carried  away  by  many  readers 
from  Yeats's  pages:  "decorative  landscape  and  still 
life."  When  the  decoration  has  been  beautiful  in 
itself  many  are  satisfied  to  enjoy  the  momentary 
pleasure  of  such  contemplation.  As  was  postulated 
in  a  previous  chapter,  this  is  sometimes  the  only 
method  by  which  to  derive  satisfaction  from  the 
poet's  utterances.  Nobody  will  deny  that  still  life 
has  a  charm  of  its  own.  But  to  those  who  seek  in 


184   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

poetry  something  more  than  a  sensuous  appeal  to  the 
eye  and  ear,  Yeats's  limitations  are  a  very  serious 
defect.  They  find  him,  as  he  admits,  "interested  in 
nothing  but  states  of  mind,  lyrical  moments,  intel- 
lectual essences." 

Such  an  attitude  does  not  necessarily  conflict  with 
the  claims  of  poetry.  Mallarme  and  many  of  the 
French  Symbolists  deliberately  followed  what  Yeats 
here  considers  a  false  light.  Lovers  of  French  verse 
are,  however,  less  exacting  in  this  respect  than  those 
whose  admiration  goes  out  whole-heartedly  to  the 
poets  of  England.  In  fact,  here  we  come  upon  an 
explanation  of  the  general  inability  of  the  average 
English  reader  fully  to  appreciate  French  poetry. 
Persons  by  no  means  swayed  by  patriotic  feeling 
have  even  denied  that  France  has  produced  poets  at 
all  comparable  to  those  of  England.  Arnold,  of 
course,  is  responsible  for  the  interesting  fiction  that 
English  is  the  language  of  poetry,  and  French  the 
language  of  prose.  The  truth  is  that  the  two  coun- 
tries have  an  almost  entirely  different  conception  of 
poetry.  In  France  the  art  of  verse  is  almost  wholly 
a  matter  of  rhythm  and  music,  in  England  the  poet 
must  have  a  philosophy;  the  one  is  addressed  to  the 
senses,  the  other  to  the  feelings.  A  Browning  is  as 
inconceivable  in  French  as  a  Mallarme  in  English. 
It  will  be  found,  in  most  cases,  that  the  French  poets 
most  popular  in  England  are  precisely  those  whose 
attitude  approximates  to  that  of  the  English.  In 
many  ways  Yeats  resembles  his  French  rather  than 
his  English  contemporaries.  The  resemblance  is 
unintentional,  it  is  true,  it  is  even  undesirable  from 
his  own  point  of  view,  as  his  essays  show.  The  ele- 
ment of  mystic  symbolism  which  he  has  put  into  his 
work  as  an  expression  of  his  thought  fails  to  satisfy 
the  reader  in  search  of  a  "message."  It  will  be 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS      185 

accepted,  on  the  contrary,  by  those  whose  ear  Js_ 
attuned  to  the  French  tradition,  for  its  musical  and 
artistic  value.  The  fact  is  not  without  significance 
that  the  first  serious  study  of  Yeats  was  by  a  French 
critic  in  La  Revue  de  Paris.  But  whenever  the  ar- 
tistry of  his  words  and  symbols  is  overcharged  by  the 
seriousness  of  his  purpose,  then  he  comes  to  the 
ground  between  two  traditions. 

The  ultimate  impression  left  by  Yeats's  prose,  as 
by  his  verse,  is  one  of  beauty.  Both  are  the  creation 
of  a  mind  skilled  in  the  technique  of  words,  the  art 
which  most  completely  absorbed  the  attention  of  the 
poet.  Had  Yeats  brought  the  same  concentration 
to  the  study  of  mysticism  as  to  the  creation  of  a  style, 
his  poetry  might  more  worthily  claim  consideration 
on  account  of  its  content.  But  the  philosophy  which 
he  has  expressed  in  prose  is  no  less  vague,  though 
less  obscure,  than  certain  poems,  and  resolves  itself 
into  a  few  commonplaces.  Starting  from  a  belief  in 
the  great  mind  and  memory  of  nature,  of  which  our 
minds  and  memories  are  a  part,  Yeats  conceives 
the  imagination  as  the  link  between  the  immortal 
memory  and  the  memory  of  man,  and  symbolism  as 
the  instrument  by  which  to  awaken  the  correspond- 
ence between  the  two.  The  elaborate  symbols  he  so 
frequently  employs  must  be  justified,  therefore,  be- 
cause of  the  moods  which  they  produce  in  him,  en- 
abling the  poet  to  enter  into  communication  with  the 
world  beyond.  Unfortunately  they  do  not  always 
arouse  the  requisite  emotion  in  the  reader  who  is  left, 
not  in  a  state  of  mystic  exaltation,  but  of  mystifica- 
tion, by  their  abstruseness.  Yeats  has  repeatedly 
described  with  precision  the  effect  of  these  symbols 
upon  himself,  but  the  very  wealth  of  detail  casts  a 
suspicion  upon  the  authenticity  of  his  visions.  They 
are  the  fantastic  dreams  of  a  poet,  rather  than  the 


186   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

glimpses  of  reality  to  which  the  true  mystic  attains. 
As  we  saw  when  discussing  The  Secret  Rose,  the 
author  too  often  outrages  one's  transcendental  com- 
mon-sense. The  doctrine  of  inertia,  the  shrinking 
from  the  problems  of  daily  life,  which  is  implicitly — 
indeed,  explicitly — a  part  of  Yeats's  theory,  does 
not  fit  into  the  mystic  philosophy  of  which  it  is 
commonly  supposed  to  be  a  part.  The  practical 
strength  of  mysticism,  the  heightened  sense  of  power 
which  it  confers,  is  by  no  means  compatible  with  the 
popular  view  fostered  by  writers  like  Yeats.  Theirs 
is  the  aloofness,  not  of  contemplation,  but  of  the  lit- 
erary theorist,  who  professes  to  disdain  the  humble 
preoccupations  of  humanity.  In  short,  examine  it 
as  we  may,  the  mystic  symbolism  of  Yeats  leads 
inevitably  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  not  niysticism 
but  "mere  literature." 

Fortunately  Yeats  has  not  allowed  his  theory  of 
life  to  interfere  with  his  practice.  His  practical 
value  to  the  Literary  Revival  cannot  be  overesti- 
mated. Just  as  his  poetry  provided  the  example,  so 
his  prose  furnished  the  precept,  necessary  to  re- 
create a  literature  for  Ireland.  Most  of  what  he  has 
written,  and  everything  he  has  done,  had  this  object 
in  view,  and  however  one  may  criticise  his  "mysti- 
cism," nobody  will  say  that  it  has  prevented  him  from 
succeeding.  Regarded  without  reference  to  its  theo- 
retical import,  the  symbolism  of  Yeats  is,  in  the 
main,  a  literary  asset  which  has  contributed  much 
to  the  charm  of  his  style.  Similarly  his  aloofness 
has  never  degenerated  into  that  quietism  whose 
theorist  he  appears  to  be.  It  simply  provided  him 
with  a  sufficient  contempt  for  the  wisdom  of  "the 
practical  man"  to  ensure  the  initial  success  of  the 
Irish  National  Theatre.  The  faith  and  patriotism 
required  to  fight  for  that  ideal  are  a  happy  demon- 


W.  B.  YEATS:  PROSE  WRITINGS      187 

stration  of  his  own  lack  of  consistency  where  intel- 
lectual theory  is  concerned. 

There  has  been  a  tendency  to  insist  unduly  upon 
the  mystic  side  of  Yeats's  work.  To  Irishmen  this 
is  the  side  of  least  importance.  We  prefer  to  think 
of  him  as  one  who  has  long  been  foremost  in  asserting 
our  right  to  literary  existence,  and  who  has  himself 
enforced  our  claim.  He  found  a  style  which  estab- 
lished him  in  the  first  rank  of  living  poets,  and  at  the 
same  time  proclaimed  the  advent  of  a  new  force  in 
literature.  More  than  any  other  of  his  contem- 
poraries he  challenged  directly  the  attention  of 
English  critics,  and  by  taking  his  place  beside  the 
best  living  poets  in  England,  he  freed  his  country- 
men from  the  inevitable  ascendancy  of  the  English 
tradition.  Where  none  is  found  to  do  this,  as  in  the 
United  States,  whose  writers  are  dominated  by 
English  models,  a  purely  imitative  un-national  lit- 
erature results.  If  we  have  in  Ireland  to-day  a  liter- 
ature which  is  national,  and  therefore  un-English, 
we  must  not  forget  the  poet  who  refuted  for  us,  by 
anticipation,  the  accusation  of  provincialism.  In 
addition  to  the  great  literary  debt  which  we  owe  to 
the  author  of  the  Celtic  Twilight  and  The  Wanderings 
of  Oisin,  in  addition  to  our  obligations  to  the  prac- 
tical idealist  of  the  Irish  National  Theatre,  we  are 
indebted  intellectually  to  W.  B.  Yeats.  Had  he  been 
less  true  to  himself  and  to  us,  we  should  not  have  to 
thank  him  for  preparing  the  way  to  Irish  freedom  in 
literature.  He  made  it  possible  for  those  who  fol- 
lowed him  to  write  in  the  certainty  that  English 
criticism  could  not  dismiss  them  as  mere  "pro- 
vincials." 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY 


LIONEL  JOHNSON,  NORA  HOPPER,  MOIRA  O  NEILL, 
ETHNA  CARBERY  AND  OTHERS 


i 


ten  years  from  1890  to  1900,  following 
upon  the  success  of  The  Wanderings  of 
Oisin,  saw  the  rise  of  a  great  wave  of 
poetry  in  Ireland.  It  was  not  that  Yeats 
had  obtained  any  decided  material  advantage  from 
his  work,  but  he  had  succeeded  in  imposing  a  new 
tradition.  Even  those  who  were  most  hostile  ad- 
mitted the  presence  in  his  verse  of  a  new  element, 
which  was  promptly  labelled  "the  Celtic  Renais- 
sance." The  phrase  having  been  accepted,  all  the 
work  of  Irish  poets  was  scrutinised  in  the  hope  of  its 
revealing  tendencies  which  might  be  covered  by  the 
label.  As  a  consequence  of  the  influences  working 
in  Ireland  a  number  of  poets  ventured  to  express 
themselves  in  terms  of  the  newly  awakened  tradition 
of  their  country.  The  result  was  that  they  found 
themselves  greeted  as  "the-  Celtic  School."  It  was 
impossible  for  them  to  write  verse  during  the  decade 
in  question  without  incurring  the  pleasure  or  dis- 
pleasure of  critics  armed  with  the  word  "Celtic." 
This  is  the  chief  factor  common  to  the  poets  whose 
names  are  at  the  head  of  the  present  chapter. 
Arriving  in  the  wake  of  Yeats,  they  were  for  some 
years  wholly  identified  with  the  Revival,  and  were 

188 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY  189 

the  centre  about  which  the  storm  of  praise  and  con- 
demnation, of  argument  and  enthusiasm,  raged. 

LIONEL    JOHNSON 

With  Todhunter,  Rolleston  and  Yeats,  Lionel 
Johnson  belonged  to  what  may  be  termed  the  Irish 
group  in  the  Rhymers'  Club.  His  first  book  of 
verse,  Poems,  did  not  appear  until  1895,  when  he  had 
already  attracted  attention  by  his  contributions  to 
The  Book  of  the  Rhymers'  Club  (1892)  and  The 
Second  Book  of  the  Rhymers'  Club  (1894).  Although 
of  the  same  generation  as  Yeats,  Johnson  resembled, 
in  one  essential,  the  older  Irish  poets  who  met  at  the 
"Cheshire  Cheese."  The  latter  were  described,  it 
will  be  remembered,  as  men  whose  chief  work,  and 
whose  style,  were  moulded  by  the  English  tradition, 
which  prevailed  prior  to  the  Revival.  Conse- 
quently, the  adherence  of  such  poets  as  Todhunter 
and  Rolleston  to  the  propaganda  of  Yeats,  though  it 
awakened  in  them  a  new  song,  could  not  change  fund- 
amentally the  general  tone  of  their  work.  Similarly, 
Lionel  Johnson  cannot  be  considered  an  Irish  poet 
in  the  sense  that  Yeats  is.  His  English  birth  and 
Oxford  education  left  such  an  imprint  upon  him  that 
he  was  in  the  same  position  as  his  older  Irish  friends 
of  the  Rhymers'  Club;  they  could  but  partially  re- 
capture the  tradition  which  had  been  reborn  to  dis- 
place in  Irish  literature  the  tradition  in  which  they 
had  developed.  Alone  amongst  his  compatriots  in 
this  group  Yeats  consistently  preserved  his  nation- 
ality, as  all  his  poems  in  the  two  books  of  the 
Rhymers'  Club  testify.  With  the  exception  of 
Johnson's  beautiful  Celtic  Speech,  none  of  the  other 
Irish  contributions  show  any  decidedly  national 
characteristics. 

His  death  at  the  age  of  thirty-five  prevented  John- 


igo   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

son  from  leaving  more  than  a  slender  body  of  work  to 
establish  his  fame:  The  Art  of  Thomas  Hardy  (1894), 
Poems  ( 1 895)  and  Ireland  and  Other  Poems  ( 1 897) .  To 
these  have  now  been  added  the  posthumous  volume  of 
essays,  Post  Liminium  (1911)  and  a  book  of  Collected 
Poems  (1915),  containing  his  complete  work  in  verse. 
For  reasons  determined  by  the  scope  of  the  present 
study,  only  the  two  books  of  verse,  and  that  but 
in  part,  need  be  considered.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to 
say  that  this  does  not  imply  either  that  Johnson's 
prose  work  is  negligible,  or  that  his  Irish  poems  are 
necessarily  superior  to  those  from  which  the  spirit 
of  the  Revival  is  absent.  That  the  greater  part  of 
his  work  concerns  English  rather  than  Irish  literature 
has  been  already  explained.  Without  insisting  upon 
the  question  of  relative  merit,  we  may  try  to  esti- 
mate that  portion  which  belongs  to  the  history  of  the 
Irish  Literary  Revival. 

The  best  of  the  poems  illustrating  this  side  of 
Lionel  Johnson's  talent  have  been  published  in  a 
selection  made  by  W.  B.  Yeats,  entitled  Twenty-one 
Poems,  which  appeared  in  1904.  What  differentiates 
these  verses  from  those  of  the  author's  contempo- 
raries is  a  certain  classic  hardness  of  outline,  and  a 
restraint  not  usually  found  in  the  loose  reveries  and 
wistful  outpourings  of  the  Irish  muse.  Johnson's 
Greek  and  Latin  studies,  his  admiration  for  Pater, 
who  was  his  tutor,  could  not  but  influence  his  own 
writing.  Whether  the  theme  be  English  or  Celtic, 
there  is  always  an  aloofness  in  the  passion  of  the 
poet;  he  does  not  abandon  himself  utterly  to  his 
mood.  It  was  easier  for  Johnson  to  be  reserved  than 
it  was  for  most  of  the  Irish  poets.  Classical  educa- 
tion, for  instance,  has  rarely  been  their  lot.  They 
have  approached  the  literatures  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
not  as  disciples  of  Pater,  but  as  children  seeking  a 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY  191 

new  field  of  romance  and  adventure.  Nothing 
would  be  more  different,  did  we  possess  them,  than 
the  impression  of  a  man  like  Johnson  and  those  of 
Yeats  or  A.  E.,  on  reading  Homer.  But  more 
important,  as  enabling  Johnson  to  exercise  the  classic 
virtue  of  restraint,  is  the  fact  that  he  wrote  of  Ire- 
land from  the  head  more  than  from  the  heart.  His 
conversion  to  the  political  tradition  of  Ireland  must 
necessarily  have  been  largely  a  matter  of  intellectual 
conviction.  The  Irish  strain  in  his  blood  was  of  the 
slightest,  and  a  generation  or  two  of  highly  Anglicised 
forbears,  one  of  whom  helped  to  crush  the  Rebellion 
in  1798,  did  not  tend  to  strengthen  his  sense  of  Irish 
nationality.  In  view  of  these  facts,  Johnson's  enthu- 
siasm for  Ireland  may  be  described  as  that  of  a  con- 
vert. His  intellect  was  stirred  before  his  heart, 
otherwise  it  could  be  difficult  to  account  for  what 
must  have  seemed  an  apostasy.  Not  by  emotion, 
but  by  argument,  can  the  de-nationalised  Irishman 
be  restored  to  his  country,  for  the  former  would 
appeal  precisely  to  those  instincts  which  he  lacks. 
It  need  not  surprise  us,  therefore,  if  Johnson's  poems, 
arising  out  of  a  thought,  possess  qualities  not  com- 
monly found  in  the  verse  of  his  contemporaries, 
which  are  inspired  by  an  emotion. 

A  further  point  of  dissimilarity  between  Johnson 
and  the  Irish  poets  with  whpm  he  was  associated  is 
the  strongly  marked  note  of  Catholicism  which  char- 
acterises so  many  of  his  poems.  Whether  he  joined 
the  Catholic  Church  in  the  hope  of  thereby  accentu- 
ating his  newly-found  Irish  nationality,  or  whether 
he  wished  to  be  in  the  literary  fashion  of  France,  as 
were  so  many  of  the  English  "decadents"  of  the 
Eighteen  Nineties,  we  cannot  tell.  It  is  possible  he 
may  have  been  prompted  by  mixed  motives,  in  which 
literary,  social,  and  even  spiritual,  considerations 


192    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

played  a  part.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Johnson's  Ca- 
tholicism constitutes  him  the  only  poet  of  the  Revival, 
apart  from  Katharine  Tynan,  whose  religion  has 
coloured  his  work.  But  here,  again,  his  English  edu- 
cation and  training  produced  effects  which  dis- 
tinguish him  from  the  Irish  Catholic.  English 
Catholicism  is,  by  comparison  with  that  of  Ireland, 
intellectual.  If,  by  chance,  an  Irish  poet  gives 
expression  to  Catholicism,  it  is  either  in  the  in- 
stinctive, wild,  half-Pagan  fashion  of  the  Religious 
Songs  of  Connacht,  or  after  the  simple,  tenderly  de- 
vout manner  of  Katharine  Tynan.  Compare  the 
latter's  charming  poem,  St.  Francis  to  the  Birds,  with 
Johnson's  A  Descant  upon  the  Litany  of  Loretto  or 
Our  Lady  of  the  May.  The  lofty  austerity  of  John- 
son is  very  different  from  the  humble  reverence  of 
the  author  of  Sheep  and  Lambs.  There  is  no  intro- 
spection in  her  work,  but  just  a  natural  movement 
of  devotion  before  the  creatures  of  God.  Her  verse 
is  as  typical  of  IrisW  as  Johnson's  is  of  English  Ca- 
tholicism. The  intellectual  fibre,  the  stern  asceticism 
of  the  latter's  religious  poetry,  is  quite  unknown  to 
the  few  Irish  poets  of  any  importance  who  have 
written  out  of  a  like  inspiration. 

The  statement  that  the  Irish  element  in  Johnson's 
work  is  the  fruit  of  intellectual  rather  than  emotional 
patriotism  must  not  be  taken  to  imply  that  it  is  weak 
and  colourless.  Putting  the  question  on  the  lowest 
level  we  might  say  that  the  convert  or  proselyte  fre- 
quently surpasses  in  zeal  the  older  brethren  in  the 
faith.  Perhaps,  indeed,  there  was  something  of  that 
enthusiasm  in  Johnson's  adoption  of  Ireland.  In 
his  verse  this  ardour  often  resulted  in  impassioned 
lines  of  intense  feeling  and  great  beauty.  Celtic 
Speech,  Ways  of  War  and  Ireland,  to  name  but  three, 
are  unsurpassed  by  none,  and  equalled  by  few,  of  his 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY  193 

contemporaries.  For  perfection  of  form  and  depth 
of  emotion  these  poems  are  noteworthy.  As  a  mas- 
ter of  words  and  technique  Johnson  ranks  with 
Yeats,  but  he  had  a  more  scrupulous  regard  for 
classical  tradition,  as  was  natural,  given  the  circum- 
stances of  his  early  life.  Indeed,  so  far  as  such  a 
slight  contribution  to  Anglo-Irish  poetry  permits 
the  comparison,  one  might  say  that  Johnson  is  Yeats 
with  an  English  classical  education  and  the  Oxford 
manner.  For  all  the  difference  between  their  lives 
and  education,  Yeats  and  Johnson  are  curiously 
alike.  Both,  each  according  to  his  literary  tradition, 
have  a  jealous  care  for  the  art  of  verse,  both  have 
something  aloof  in  their  manner,  as  of  men  who  live 
remote  from  the  passions  of  the  common  world. 
Subsequent  events  have  eliminated  much  of  this  in- 
humanity from  Yeats's  work,  but  while  Johnson  was 
living  the  two  must  have  been  very  similar  in  this 
respect,  except  that  Yeats  came  more  in  contact  with 
humanity.  He  had  neither  the  instincts  of  a  scholar 
nor  the  habits  of  a  recluse  which  heightened  the 
austere,  ascetic  traits  in  his  friend's  work. 

In  their  literary  theories  they  were  at  one,  so  far  as 
Ireland  is  concerned.  Johnson's  Poetry  and  Patriotism 
in  Ireland,  the  only  lecture  of  his  to  the  Irish  Lit- 
erary Society  that  has  been  preserved,  reads  like  a 
pronouncement  of  Yeats's.  The  arguments  are  the 
same,  only  the  voice  and  manner  are  different.  In 
pleading  for  a  wider  conception  of  national  literature 
than  that  accepted  from  the  poets  of  The  Nation, 
Johnson  defines  the  aims  of  the  Revival  as  Yeats  has 
done.  But,  as  one  might  expect  from  the  delicate 
critic  of  Thomas  Hardy,  there  is  a  more  catholic 
understanding  of  literature  in  general,  and  above  all, 
a  greater  precision  of  thought  and  language  than  are 
usual  in  Yeats's  criticism.  We  may  note  also  an 


194   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

accuracy  of  allusion  and  quotation  whose  absence 
has  so  constantly  irritated  or  amused  readers  of 
Yeats's  essays.  As  a  worker  in  the  early  days  of  the 
Irish  Literary  Society,  Johnson  was  a  valuable  second 
to  Yeats,  whose  ideals  and  ideas  he  fully  understood 
and  supported.  His  broad  culture  and  thorough  lit- 
erary education  gave  him  an  influence  which  must 
have  been  valuable  to  Yeats,  who  was  almost  alone 
in  his  concern  for  the  general  standards  of  literature. 
It  must  always  be  uncertain  whether  Johnson,  if  he 
had  lived,  would  have  continued  to  identify  himself 
increasingly  with  the  literature  he  was  helping  to 
foster.  If  one  may  judge  by  the  somewhat  analogous 
cases  of  his  fellow  Rhymers,  Todhunter  and  Rolles- 
ton,  he  would  not.  The  prior  claims  of  literary  in- 
terests and  associations  already  formed  would  prob- 
ably have  drawn  him.  It  is  significant  that  the 
volume  of  critical  essays,  Post  Liminium,  contains  but 
two  dealing  with  Irish  literature,  one  of  them  being 
the  lecture  just  referred  to,  and  the  other  a  very 
journalistic  sketch  of  Mangan.  This  fact  does  not 
suggest  a  deep  interest  in  the  work  to  which  a  part 
of  him  contributed.  But  writh  this  part  we  may  be 
satisfied,  both  because  of  the  quality  of  the  contri- 
bution, which  compensates  for  the  absence  of  quan- 
tity, and  because  of  the  act  of  contribution  itself, 
which  was  a  testimony  to  the  strength  of  the  cause. 
It  is  to  the  credit  of  the  Revival  that  it  should  have 
attracted  and  influenced  a  writer  who  had  every 
temptation  to  consecrate  himself  entirely  to  English 
literature,  where  his  fame  was  well  on  the  way  to 
being  established. 

NORA   HOPPER,    MOIRA   O'NEILL  AND    ETHNA   CARBERY 

In  1894  Nora  Hopper's  Ballads  in  Prose  announced 
a  newcomer  to  the  group  of  young  Irish  poets  in 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY  195 

London  who  were  striving  to  add  the  evidence  of  their 
work  to  the  theories  for  which  Yeats  had  become 
sponsor.  By  this  time  the  "Celtic  Movement"  had 
become  an  accepted  fact  in  contemporary  journalism, 
and  Yeats,  partly  because  of  his  incessant  propa- 
ganda, and  partly  because  of  his  own  success,  was 
the  recognised  leader  of  the  so-called  "school."  If 
ever  this  word  had  any  justification,  it  was  in  the 
case  of  Nora  Hopper,  who  came  forward  manifestly 
as  a  disciple  of  Yeats.  Although  but  a  few  verses 
were  scattered  through  Ballads  in  Prose,  the  book 
bore  unmistakable  traces  of  being  inspired  by  the 
poetry  of  Yeats.  The  prose  stories  had  an  air  of 
fairy  mystery,  all  were  founded  upon  popular  legends 
and  Gaelic  folk-lore  and  were,  at  that  time,  some- 
what of  a  novelty.  The  retelling  of  folk-stories  and 
the  rewriting  of  Celtic  myths  had  not  then  become 
so  common  as  of  late  years.  In  a  simple  style  the 
author  had  woven  together  a  number  of  fanciful 
dreams,  whose  spirit  and  ornament  were  Irish.  But 
the  poems  were  flagrantly  imitative,  even  to  such  a 
degree  as: 

I  will  arise  and  go  hence  to  the  west, 

And  dig  me  a  grave  where  the  hill-winds  call.  .  .  . 

Yeats's  Innisfree  is  here  put  under  contribution  as 
surely  as  are  the  verses,  too  numerous  to  quote,  from 
which  Nora  Hopper  borrowed  her  "long  gray  twi- 
lights," "sighing  sedge"  and  "gray  sea."  There 
was,  however,  a  promise  in  the  very  youthfulness  of 
this  volume.  Not  all  the  lyrics  were  weak  imitations, 
and  one,  at  least,  The  King  of  Ireland's  Son,  was  to 
take  its  place  amongst  the  most  beautiful  verses 
produced  by  the  Revival.  It  appeared,  in  an  ex- 
panded form,  as  the  opening  poem  of  Nora  Hopper's 
first  collection  of  poems,  Under  Quicken  Boughs, 


196   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

published  in  1896.  Fiona  MacLeod  pronounced  it 
one  of  the  "three  loveliest  and  most  typical  lyrics  of 
our  time,"  ranking  it  with  Innisfree,  and  Moira 
O'Neill's  Corrymeela.  This  statement  belongs  rather 
to  what  Yeats  calls  Fiona  MacLeod's  "too  emphatic 
manner,"  but  the  poems  are  certainly  "three  of  the 
loveliest  and  most  typical  lyrics"  in  Anglo-Irish  lit- 
erature. The  King  of  Ireland's  Son  is  best  as  orig- 
inally conceived: 

All  the  way  to  Tir  na  n'Og  are  many  roads  that  run, 

But  the  darkest  road  is  trodden  by  the  King  of  Ireland's  son. 

The  world  wears  down  to  sundown,  and  love  is  lost  and  won 

But  he  recks  not  of  loss  or  gain,  the  King  of  Ireland's  son. 

He  follows  on  for  ever,  when  all  your  chase  is  done, 

He  follows  after  shadows — the  King  of  Ireland's  son. 

The  version  in  Under  Quicken  Boughs  is  nearly 
three  times  as  long  and  has  been  weakened,  in  spite 
of  one  or  two  new  lines  of  fine  quality.  The  opening 
and  closing  stanzas  will  show  the  difference  between 
the  two  poems : 

Now  all  away  to  Tir  na  n'Og  are  many  roads  that  run, 

But  he  has  ta'en  the  longest  lane,  the  King  of  Ireland's  son. 

The  star  is  yours  to  win  or  lose,  and  me  the  dusk  has  won. 
He  follows  after  shadows,  the  King  of  Ireland's  son. 

The  clumsiness  of  these  lines,  the  triteness  of  thought 
and  the  stereotyped  phrase  which  disfigure  them, 
indicate  the  general  quality  of  the  volume  in  which 
they  appear. 

All  the  cliches  which  the  parodists  have  found  use- 
ful when  exercising  their  talents  upon  Irish  poetry 
are  represented  in  these  poems.  "Silk  of  the  kine," 
"dear  black  head,"  "beautiful  dark  rose" — none  is 
missing.  Worst  of  all,  the  conception  is  as  stereo- 
typed as  the  language;  The  Passing  of  the  Shee, 
Wild  Geese,  The  Grey  Fog  are  but  mechanical  varia- 


THE_REVIVAL  OF  POETRY  197 

tions  upon  well-worn  themes.  Usually  they  are  well 
done,  for  the  author  has  decided  skill  and  fluency, 
but  they  lack  individual  emotion.  Yeats  is  prob- 
ably right  in  suspecting  that,  though  published  later, 
Under  Quicken  Boughs  was  written,  for  the  most  part, 
prior  to  Ballads  in  Prose.  Much  as  one  feels  the 
influence  of  Yeats  in  the  latter,  the  verse  has  never- 
theless a  maturity  lacking  in  the  unequal  poetry  of 
Nora  Hopper's  second  volume.  Four  years  elapsed 
before  she  published  Songs  of  the  Morning  (1900) 
which,  with  Aquamarines  (1902),  completes  her  work, 
so  far  as  we  are  at  present  concerned.  Her  experi- 
ments in  "circulationist"  fiction  belong  neither  to 
Ireland  nor  to  literature.  Both  these  later  volumes 
are  free  from  the  excrescences  of  Celtic  cliche  to  which 
reference  has  been  made.  Evidently  the  author  has 
learned  that,  contrary  to  the  general  superstition, 
fairy  raths,  misty  wraiths,  and  laments  for  the  dead, 
do  not  necessarily  constitute  Irish  poetry,  not  even 
when  interspersed  with  Gaelic  names  and  allusions 
to  Celtic  mythology.  A  Pagan,  where  the  theme 
makes  the  mere  "paraphernalia"  of  Celticism  impos- 
sible, is  more  truly  in  its  mood  than  the  Roisin  Dubh 
and  Ros  Geal  Dhu  of  the  earlier  poems. 

Sad  sobs  the  sea  forsaken  of  Aphrodite, 
Hellas  and  Helen  are  not,  and  the  slow  sands  fall, 

Gods  that  were  gracious  and  lovely,  gods  that  were  mighty, 
Sky  and  sea  and  silence  resume  them  all. 

Yeats  might  have  written  this  with  more  obviously 
Celtic  allusion,  but  the  attitude  expressed  could  not, 
on  that  account,  be  more  typical  of  the  race. 

Songs  of  the  Morning  has  been  pronounced  the  best 
volume  of  Nora  Hopper's  verse,  although  it  contains 
fewer  poems  of  outstanding  merit  than  its  prede- 
cessors. The  level  of  workmanship  is  more  even, 


i98    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

but  the  freshness  and  fervour  of  some  of  the  early 
poems  is  absent.  In  Aquamarines,  particularly, 
there  is  a  dead  level  of  pretty,  well-made  verse, 
which  would  never  have  obtained  for  the  poetess  the 
degree  of  favour  she  enjoyed.  A  few  poems  such  as 
that  just  quoted  still  have  a  little  of  the  Celtic 
quality,  but  in  Songs  of  the  Morning  and  Aqua- 
marines one  feels  how  easily  denationalised  Nora 
Hopper's  poetry  became.  One  prefers  the  English 
poems  of  which  the  book  is  mainly  composed  to  the 
desperate  attempts  at  capturing  the  Irish  spirit  as 
Kathleen  Ny-Houlahan.  Nor  is  the  book  redeemed 
by  the  inclusion  of  the  Irish  play,  Muirgeis,  which  we 
would  willingly  lose  for  the  sake  of  the  poem  be- 
ginning: 

Beauty  was  born  of  the  world's  desire 

For  the  wandering  water,  the  wandering  fire.  .  .  . 

But  Beauty  belongs  to  the  preceding  volume  and  has 
not  its  equivalent  in  Aquamarines. 

Nora  Hopper's  facile  imagination  surrendered  itself 
too  readily  to  passing  influences.  From  the  extrava- 
gant "Celticism"  of  her  first  books,  and  the  conven- 
tional Anglicisation  of  the  last,  it  is  easy  to  estimate 
the  instability  of  her  talent.  She  had  nothing  of 
Lionel  Johnson's  almost  fierce  fanaticism  in  religion 
and  politics,  but  she  resembled  him  in  that  both  were 
transplanted  Irish,  born  in  England  and  naturally 
absorbed  by  it  to  some  extent.  In  the  first  enthu- 
siasm of  the  emotions  awakened  by  the  call  to 
patriotism  in  literature  Nora  Hopper  was  carried 
away  by  the  charm  and  wonder  of  Irish  legend.  The 
personal  and  national  prestige  of  Yeats  doubtless 
appealed  to  her  and  she  wrote  in  an  exuberance  of 
Celtic  feeling.  But,  as  time  went  on,  the  encroach- 
ment of  her  actual  English  life  weakened  the  impulse 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY  199 

towards  Ireland,  until  finally  her  verse  was  undis- 
tinguishable  from  that  of  the  multitude  of  minor 
English  poets.  The  Revival  held  her  just  long 
enough  to  exhaust  the  slight  vein  of  Irish  poetry  it 
discovered  in  her.  What  remained,  outside  her 
charming  Ballads  in  Prose,  was  some  half-dozen 
lovely  lyrics  which  rightly  entitle  her  to  a  place  in  the 
anthologies.  It  is  doubtful  if  a  strictly  critical  judg- 
ment would  confirm  the  very  personal  choice  which 
led  to  the  publication  of  her  selected  works  in  five 
volumes. 

The  accusation  of  having  written  too  much  is  not 
one  that  can  be  brought  against  either  Moira  O'Neill 
or  Ethna  Carbery.  Moira  O'Neill  is  known  as  the 
author  of  one  book,  Songs  of  the  Glens  of  Antrim, 
just  as  Ethna  Carbery's  reputation  rests  solely  upon 
the  posthumous  collection  of  her  poems  published  in 
1902  under  the  happy  title,  The  Four  Winds  of  Erin. 
Both,  however,  have  written  prose  stories,  whose 
substance  derives  from  fairy  and  legendary  lore, 
somewhat  similar  to  those  of  Nora  Hopper.  Ethna 
Carbery's  In  the  Celtic  Past  (1904)  is  probably  more 
widely  read  in  Ireland  than  Ballads  in  Prose,  but  the 
latter  is  better  known  than  The  Elf  Errant  (1895), 
in  which  Moira  O'Neill,  without  detriment  to  her 
romance  of  fairyland,  was  able  subtly  to  contrast 
and  characterise  her  own  and  the  English  people. 

Songs  of  the  Glens  of  Antrim  (1902)  is  the  slenderest 
volume  of  verse  to  obtain  general  recognition  which 
the  Revival  has  produced.  Twenty-five  poems,  each 
but  a  few  stanzas,  telling  chiefly  of  the  longing  of  an 
Irish  peasant  for  his  old  home  and  the  scenes  asso- 
ciated with  it — surely  an  unsubstantial  bid  for  fame! 
Many  poets  have  begun  with  equal  modesty,  but 
their  first  offerings  have,  as  a  rule,  been  followed  by 
others  more  imposing.  Moira  O'Neill  escaped  the 


200   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

alternative  usually  presented  to  the  young  poet,  who 
must  either  substantiate  the  promise  of  his  first 
book,  or  see  it  pass  out  of  memory.  She  made  no 
attempt  to  exploit  the  vein  which  had  brought  her 
success,  but  rested  at  a  point  which  would  normally 
have  been  that  of  departure  in  search  of  further 
honours.  The  reason  was  doubtless  that  she  fully 
recognised  how  insusceptible  of  expansion  her  little 
book  was.  At  the  same  time  we  have  to  enquire 
why  criticism  was  content  to  accept  this  new  talent, 
without  waiting  for  any  riper  development.  The 
explanation  is  that  Songs  of  the  Glens  of  Antrim 
was  so  original,  so  novel  and  so  perfect  of  its  kind, 
that  confirmation  of  the  poet's  power  was  not 
required. 

Much  had  been  said  and  written  by  Yeats  and  his 
colleagues  of  the  force  of  the  peasant  element  in  the 
new  Anglo-Irish  literature,  but  many  felt  that  pre- 
cisely this  element  was  far  to  seek  in  the  work  of  the 
more  prominent  Irish  writers.  Moira  O'Neill  came, 
with  a  genuine  peasant  poetry,  free  from  the  intel- 
lectual subtleties  held  to  be  incompatible  with  the 
avowed  folk-ideals  of  Yeats,  and  she  convinced  the 
sceptics.  Corrymeela  was  as  certainly  good  poetry 
as  it  was  a  natural  utterance  from  the  lips  of  an 
Irish  peasant.  When  her  verses  were  written  the 
use  of  dialect  was  still  rare  amongst  the  poets — espe- 
cially its  serious  use — and  such  of  it  as  was  employed 
had  a  certain  anonymous  character.  Moira  O'Neill 
localised  her  speech;  she  spoke  the  language  of  the 
Antrim  Glens,  and  she  demonstrated  its  application 
to  literature.  If  her  themes  are  not  original,  her 
manner  of  treating  them  was  distinctly  so.  For  the 
first  time  the  voice  of  the  Ulster  countryside  was 
heard,  instead  of  the,  even  then,  more  familar  tones 
of  Munster  and  Connacht.  Nowadays  Anglo-Irish 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY  201 

literature  covers  the  whole  field  of  characteristically 
Irish  life,  though  Ulster  is  still  less  articulate  than 
the  provinces  of  the  South  and  West.  Songs  of  the- 
Glens  of  Antrim  was  in  this  respect  a  pioneer  volume, 
which  realised  completely  the  purpose  of  its  author. 
For  that  reason  we  admire  her  discretion  in  not 
forcing  the  note  she  instinctively  struck.  Her 
reward  was  an  immediate  measure  of  esteem  which 
lasted,  despite  the  seeming  inadequacy  of  its  occa- 
sion. The  relative  merit  of  those  twenty-five  poems 
may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  their  claim  upon 
the  anthologist  disputes  upon  equal  terms  that  of 
Moira  O'Neill's  more  voluminous  contemporaries. 

Ethna  Carbery's  book,  The  Four  Winds  of  Eirinn, 
owing  to  the  great  number  of  poems  it  contains, 
offers  more  variety  than  that  of  Moira  O'Neill, 
though  the  two  volumes  are  not,  in  essence,  very  dis- 
similar. Their  commonjtrait  is  the  element  of  folk- 
poetry  which  distinguishes  them  from  the  more 
"literary"  verse  of  the  time.  In  Ethna  Carbery  this 
trait  is  more  pronounced,  because  of  the  greater 
scope  for  its  emphasis,  and  because  the  spirit  of  her 
work  is  intensely  Gaelic.  To  use  a  stereotyped 
phrase,  to  say  her  poems  smack  of  the  soil,  is  to  apply 
that  now  almost  meaningless  expression  where  its 
original  force  may  be  felt,  so  exactly  do  these  words 
fit  the  case.  For  some  years  prior  to  their  appear- 
ance in  book  form,  Ethna  Carbery's  poems  had  been 
appearing  in  the  newspapers  read  throughout  the 
countryside,  and  they  had  become  the  possession  of 
hundreds  who  had  no  care  for  the  identity  or  stand- 
ing of  the  author.  They  captured  the  popular  heart 
because  they  breathed  the  authentic  spirit  of  Gaelic 
Ireland.  The  successive  editions  into  which  they 
have  passed  in  their  collected  form  are  evidence  of  the 
strength  of  the  hold  they  obtained  upon  the  people. 


202    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Examination  of  these  poems  will  show  some  of  the 
reasons  for  their  success.  They  are  never  esoteric, 
they  are  written  in  the  direct  and  simple  language 
of  the  people,  and  they  cover  the  whole  field  of 
Gaelic  poetry.  There  are  poems  of  love  and  of 
patriotism,  poems  which  sing  of  Gaelic  legend  and 
of  the  idealism  of  the  Celtic  imagination.  All  are 
the  utterances  of  a  heart  and  mind  passionately 
devoted  to  the  land  of  the  poet  and  her  audience, 
for,  characteristically,  none  is  addressed  to  any  but 
an  Irish  audience.  It  is  doubtful  if  Ethna  Carbery 
ever  published  her  verse  in  an  English  journal;  the 
acknowledged  sources  of  the  poems  reprinted  are 
either  Irish  or  American.  This  selection  on  her  part 
was  probably  intentional,  but  would,  in  most  cases, 
have  been  involuntary,  owing  to  the  nature  of  her 
work.  Such  an  admission  naturally  implies  a  nar- 
rowness of  range  incompatible  either  with  great 
poetry  or  with  the  principles  advocated  by  the  lead- 
ers of  the  Revival.  Irish  literature  can  be  national, 
without  being  isolated.  The  genius  of  Shakespere 
is  none  the  less  English  because  he  has  been  almost 
"annexed"  by  Germany.  Precisely  this  literary 
insularity,  so  marked  in  the  literature  of  the  early 
nineteenth  century,  was  the  substance  of  Yeats's 
complaint,  when  he  urged  his  generation  to  make 
their  work  Irish  without  rendering  it  incapable  of 
being  appreciated  abroad. 

It  may  be  frankly  admitted  that  the  adjective 
"great"  is  the  last  word  one  would  apply  to  the 
poetry  of  Ethna  Carbery,  which  does  not  even  com- 
pare, from  an  artistic  point  of  view,  with  that  of  her 
lesser  contemporaries.  Katharine  Tynan  and  Nora 
Hopper,  for  example,  have  technical  qualities  which 
are  not  hers,  though  she  is  certainly  their  equal  in 
force  of  poetic  feeling.  Although  Nora  Hopper's 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY 


203 


death  was  as  premature  as  Ethna  Carbery's — both 
having  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-five — the  latter  had 
not  the  opportunities  for  artistic  development  which 
came  to  the  others.  Writing  solely  in  popular  jour- 
nals, for  an  uncritical  audience,  she  escaped  the  disci- 
pline that  must  go  towards  the  making  of  a  great 
artist.  In  short,  she  paid  the  penalty  which,  as 
Yeats  had  pointed  out,  befell  all  who,  like  the  poets 
of  The  Nation,  put  intense  but  narrow  patriotism 
before  art.  They  might  write  popular  verse,  and 
stirring  verse,  for  association  of  patriotic  ideas  would 
often  fill  the  place  of  technique.  As  Lionel  Johnson 
pointed  out  in  his  lecture  on  Poetry  and  Patriotism, 
nobody  would  care  to  assert  that  God  Save  the  King 
was  even  "decent  verse,"  not  to  mention  "poetry," 
but  nobody  would  deny  its  appeal  to  Englishmen. 
This  was  the  nature  of  the  success  of  Irish  poetry  in 
pre-Revival  times.  Occasionally,  as  in  the  case  of 
Mangan,  ardently  patriotic  verse  attained  a  high  lit- 
erary level,  but,  as  a  rule,  the  heart  was  stirred  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  critical  faculties.  To  a  large  extent 
Ethna  Carbery's  appeal  was  a  reversion  to  the  old 
type  of  poetry,  and  she  met  with  an  equally  popular 
success.  But  this  popularity  is  a  significant  confir- 
mation of  the  great  change  brought  about  by  the 
Revival  in  even  the  least  esoteric  circles.  What- 
ever fault  may  be  found  with  these  poems,  they 
remain  essentially  superior  to  their  equivalents  of 
the  Fenian  and  Nation  school.  They  are  free  from 
the  political  hates  and  lamentations  of  the  older 
poetry,  and,  above  all,  they  have  substituted  for  these 
a  love  for  the  spiritual  traditions  of  Celtic  Ireland. 
The  wider  and  deeper  conception  of  nationality  here 
implied  is  the  great  gift  of  the  Revival  to  Anglo- 
Irish  literature. 

Almost  as  striking  as  the  number  of  Irish  poets  who 


204   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

became  known  during  the  Eighteen-Nineties,  is  the 
large  proportion  of  them  who  died  young.  In  addi- 
tion to  Nora  Hopper  and  Ethna  Carbery  we  may 
mention  Rose  Kavanagh  and  Frances  Wynne,  whose 
work  was  well  received,  and  would  probably  have 
obtained  more  general  recognition  had  they  lived. 
By  far  the  more  important  of  the  two  is  Rose  Kav- 
anagh, although  it  was  not  until  long  after  her  death 
that  her  poems  were  collected  into  a  volume,  Rose 
Kavanagh  and  her  Verses  (1909).  Frances  Wynne's 
Whisper!  (1890)  was  a  handful  of  pretty  verse  without 
any  of  the  personality  and  promise  of  Rose  Kav- 
anagh's.  The  latter's  Lough  Bray  and  The  Northern 
Blackwater  are  entitled  to  rank  with  the  best  of  the 
minor  poetry  produced  by  the  Revival.  There  is  a 
deeper  tone,  a  quality  of  thought,  in  her  work  which 
one  misses  in  that  of  her  fellow-poets,  where  an  at- 
tenuated simplicity  testifies  to  the  prestige  amongst 
these  young  ladies  of  their  older  friend,  Katharine 
Tynan.  Such  is  the  case,  for  example,  in  Alice  Fur- 
long's Roses  and  Rue  (1899),  to  cite  from  the  living 
an  instance  of  this  contagious  naivete,  this  attitude 
of  devotion,  which  is  common  to  most  of  the  women 
poets  of  the  time.  It  is  highly  probable  that  the 
author  of  St.  Francis  to  the  Birds  was,  unconsciously, 
responsible  for  an  identity  of  attitude  and  manner 
in  the  work  of  her  friends  which  renders  it  unneces- 
sary to  examine  at  length  what  they  have  written. 
With  the  exception  of  Rose  Kavanagh,  "who  began 
to  write  about  the  same  time  as  Katharine  Tynan,  all 
took  example  by  their  successful  predecessor  in  the 
field  of  what  we  may  term  minor  Catholicism. 

Dora  Sigerson  Shorter  was  one  of  the  group,  in- 
cluding Rose  Kavanagh,  who  contributed  in  1889  to 
Lays  and  Lyrics  of  the  Pan-Celtic  Society,  a  work  to 
which  reference  has  been  made  in  a  previous  chapter. 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY  205 

For  this  reason  she  does  not  belong  to  the  category 
just  mentioned.  Having  started  out  independently, 
as  it  were,  she  did  not  succumb  to  the  influences  DI 
the  personal  circle  in  which  she  moved  for  some 
years.  Moreover,  as  the  author  of  more  than  a 
dozen  books  of  verse,  she  differs  measurably  from  the 
poets  who  have  been  the  subject  of  this  chapter.  She 
rivals  Katharine  Tynan,  as  the  most  voluminous  of 
the  women  poets,  but  the  quantity  of  her  work  need 
not  mislead  us  as  to  its  quality  or  importance.  In 
spite  of  George  Meredith's  championship,  her  poetry 
has  been  severely  criticised  for  what  has  been  po- 
litely described  as  its  "incuriousness  of  form."  The 
incredible  offences  against  all  known  laws  of  metrics, 
style,  and  even  grammar,  which  mar  the  verse  of 
Dora  Sigerson  Shorter,  have  been  so  frequently 
pointed  out  that  they  need  not  detain  us.  It  will  be 
sufficient  to  note  that  these  defects  can  be  attributed 
only  to  ignorance  or  carelessness,  and  either  must 
necessarily  diminish  her  claim  to  be  ranked  with  her 
contemporaries  of  the  first  class.  Indeed,  we  might 
say  that  the  former  alternative  would,  within  certain 
limits,  be  more  acceptable  than  the  latter.  A  native, 
uncultivated  talent  may  well  be  found  where  circum- 
stances exclude  the  accompaniment  of  commensur- 
ate technical  power.  While  hoping,  or  waiting,  for 
the  development  of  an  adequate  technique  criticism 
will  recognise  the  presence  of  genius.  In  the  case  of 
Dora  Sigerson  Shorter,  the  accusation  of  ignorance 
is  ludicrous,  but  the  recurrence  in  successive  volumes 
of  similar  flaws  cannot  but  lead  to  the  conclusion  of 
carelessness. 

In  spite  of  disconcerting  rhymes,  and  fault  of  style, 
the  author  of  The  Fairy  Changeling  and  Other  Poems 
(1898)  is  a  poet  of  undeniable  merit.  In  such  forms 
as  the  ballad,  where  her  peculiar  weaknesses  are  less 


206   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

noticeable  than  in  the  lyrics,  she  has  been  specially 
successful.  The  absence  of  technique,  the  directness 
of  her  manner,  save  her  here  from  the  conventionality 
which  usually  prevents  the  modern  ballad-writer 
from  reproducing  the  effects  of  his  models.  Irish 
folk-lore  provides  her  with  plenty  of  material,  and  as 
might  be  expected,  her  best  ballads  are  Irish.  The 
Fairy  Changeling,  The  Fair  Little  Maiden  or  The 
Pries f s  Brother,  for  example,  are  superior  to  The 
Dean  of  Santiago,  which  lacks  emotion,  as  do  many 
of  the  later  poems.  Poems  and  Ballads  (1899)  con~ 
tains  fewer  ballads  of  the  same  order  as  those  in  The 
Fairy  Changeling,  which  is  probably  the  author's 
best  volume.  She  does  not  always  succeed,  however, 
even  with  Irish  themes,  as  witness  Uisneach  and 
Deirdre,  where  she  essays,  in  turn,  to  treat  the  legend 
of  the  Irish  Helen,  but  fails  to  challenge  comparison 
with  those  of  her  contemporaries  whom  the  subject 
has  attracted.  When  making  a  selection  for  the 
volume  published  in  1907  as  The  Collected  Poems  of 
Dora  Sigerson  Shorter,  she  omitted  this  and  many 
other  of  her  less  fortunate  experiments,  notably  The 
Me  Within  Thee  Blind.  That  "  novelette  in  rhyming 
pentameters,"  as  an  English  critic  called  it,  was  evi- 
dence of  a  desire  to  abuse  the  power  of  metrical  nar- 
rative which  George  Meredith  declared  to  be  the 
chief  gift  of  the  author.  In  reviving  the  ballad,  or, 
rather,  in  making  this  genre  her  principal  concern, 
she  has  helped  to  restore  to  Irish  literature  one  of  its 
most  characteristic  forms.  But  one  cannot  help 
regretting  that  she  did  not  check  precisely  that  fatal 
fluency  which  enabled  her  to  write  so  easily  and  so 
carelessly.  In  the  many  volumes  she  has  published 
nothing  essential  will  be  found  which  is  not  in  that 
single  volume  of  collected  poems  for  which  George 
Meredith  was  sponsor.  Even  in  the  precarious  posi- 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY  207 

tion  of  a  preface-writer  he  was  obliged  to  admit  the 
presence  of  that  defective  craftsmanship  which  has, 
from  the  beginning,  detracted  from  the  good  work  of 
Dora  Sigerson  Shorter. 

Two  writers  of  this  period,  Jane  Barlow  and  Emily 
Lawless,  deserve  more  than  a  passing  reference  to 
their  poetical  work.  But  as  both  have  acquired 
and  rested  their  reputations  primarily  upon  their 
prose  fiction,  we  must  postpone  the  attempt  to  esti- 
mate adequately  their  contribution  to  Anglo-Irish 
literature.  In  the  case  of  Emily  Lawless  this  is  all 
the  more  justifiable  in  that  she  had  begun  to  estab- 
lish herself  as  a  novelist  contemporaneously  with  the 
first  manifestations  of  the  poetic  revival,  with  which 
she  did  not  associate  herself  very  prominently.  Two 
volumes  of  her  verse,  With  the  Wild  Geese  (1902)  and 
The  Point  of  View  (1909),  were  collected  late  in  her 
literary  life,  and  the  third,  The  Inalienable  Heritage 
(1914),  appeared  after  her  death.  All  three  were 
privately  printed,  and  only  the  first  was  afterwards 
published  in  the  ordinary  way.  The  circumstances, 
therefore,  indicate  that,  as  a  poet,  Emily  Lawless  did 
not  wish  to  make  any  great  claim  to  public  attention. 
The  reticent  attitude  she  displayed  towards  her 
verse  by  no  means  implies  that  she  had  nothing  to 
say  to  an  audience  larger  than  that  of  her  personal 
friends  and  acquaintances.  The  historical  ballads 
of  seventeenth-century  Ireland,  which  gave  their 
title  to  her  first  collection  of  poems,  are  finer  than 
most  of  modern  experiments  in  this  genre.  The  sec- 
tion entitled  Fontenoy,  in  particular,  has  attained  to 
the  rank  of  a  popular  classic,  disputed  only  by  the 
equally  beautiful  Dirge  of  the  Munster  Forest,  from 
the  related  group  of  poems,  The  Desmond  War.  For 
combined  narrative  strength,  deep  poetic  and  na- 
tional colour,  these  ballads  surpass  most  of  the  work 


208    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

by  which  Dora   Sigerson   Shorter  has   come  to  be 
recognised  as  a  ballad-writer  par  excellence. 

The  Inalienable  Heritage,  though  it  contains  the 
striking  ballad  of  Penal  days,  The  Third  Trumpet,  is 
most  distinguished  by  its  lyric  qualities.  These 
were  present  in  With  the  Wild  Geese,  but  were  rather 
overshadowed  by  the  prominence  given  to  the  title 
poems.  The  sense  of  nature  which  made  so  vivid 
the  pictures  in  those  earlier  poems,  comprehensively 
entitled  In  the  Aran  Isles,  comes  to  fuller  expression 
in  the  last  book  of  Emily  Lawless.  From  the  Burr  en 
and  From  a  Western  Shoreway  are  two  groups  which 
illustrate  at  its  best  the  author's  gift  of  lyric  poetry. 
Without  any  premeditated  artifice  she  has  the  faculty 
of  evoking  the  spectacle  and  the  emotion  of  the 
splendidly  wild,  desolate  landscape  of  the  West, 
where  the  deep  booming  of  the  Atlantic  affords  the 
only  adequate  background.  No  Irish  poet  has  more 
successfully  imbued  his  verse  with  the  tone  and 
colour  of  Irish  nature  than  the  author  of  A  Bog-filled 
Valley.  Not  that  Emily  Lawless  is  content  to  paint 
pictures  only,  or  to  write  Nature  poems  for  their  own 
sake.  Her  enthusiasm  as  an  entomologist  did,  it  is 
true,  inspire  her  to  write  of  the  "rare  and  deep-red 
burnet-moth  only  to  be  met  with  in  the  Burren." 
Excellent  of  its  kind,  this  poem  is  an  exception,  for 
as  a  rule  she  never  fails  to  voice  the  intimate  rela- 
tion of  the  human  spirit  to  its  natural  surroundings. 
The  roar  of  the  great  ocean,  the  mists  veiling  the 
brown  stretches  of  bogland,  the  druid  remains,  the 
fairy  mounds — as  these  pass  before  her  eyes  she  iden- 
tifies the  mysterious  spirit  that  broods  over  them 
with  the  spirit  within  herself.  The  Celtic  imagina- 
tion, which  sees  in  the  external  world  the  evidence  of 
the  common  identity  of  all  life,  as  manifestations  of 
the  Great  Spirit;  which  peoples  the  streams  and 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY  209 

forests  with  supernatural  presences  serving  to  link 
this  world  with  the  regions  beyond  Time  and  Space— 
this  imaginative  element  is  not  lacking  in  Emily 
Lawless.  She  writes  out  of  a  detachment  not  usual 
in  Irish  poetry,  but  this  is  probably  due  to  the  pre- 
dominantly intellectual  character  of  her  emotion. 
Of  her  strong  feeling  for  Irish  ideals  and  sufferings 
many  of  her  best  poems  are  evidence,  while  all  her 
poetry  is  infused  with  an  intense  love  for  her  native 
soil.  Exceptional,  and  most  perfect,  is  her  sensitive- 
ness to  the  appeal  of  the  mighty  sea  which  breaks 
upon  the  shores  she  knew  and  loved  best. 

At  the  outset  of  the  Revival  Jane  Barlow,  unlike 
Emily  Lawless,  had  made  no  advance  in  the  direction 
which  ultimately  brought  her  side  by  side  with  the 
older  writer.  When  T.  W.  Rolleston  was  editing 
The  Dublin  University  Review  she  was  one  of  those 
who,  like  Yeats,  were  rewarded  by  encouragement  on 
submitting  their  first  poems  for  publication.  These 
Bogland  Studies  were  collected  some  years  later,  and 
appeared  as  her  first  book  in  1892.  It  would  be  out 
of  place  to  judge  this  volume  strictly  upon  its  lit- 
erary merits;  its  style  and  manner  presuppose 
metrical  laxities,  and  lapses  from  most  of  the  estab- 
lished rules  of  poetic  literature.  The  author  is  not 
concerned  with  such  considerations,  being  interested 
rather  in  the  success  of  an  experiment.  Bogland 
Studies  is  an  attempt  to  give  in  verse  form  a  series 
of  narratives  of  Irish  peasant  life.  It  was  originally 
written  in  a  dialect  perilously  close  to  that  carica- 
ture of  Anglo-Irish  speech  with  which  Lever  and 
Lover  endowed  the  "stage  Irishman,"  and  whose  dis- 
appearance is  due  to  the  example  of  such  masters  of 
the  idiom  as  Douglas  Hyde  and  J.  M.  Synge.  In  the 
enlarged  edition  of  1894,  Jane  Barlow  was  wise 
enough  to  modify  or  abolish  some  of  the  more  out- 


210   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

rageous  distortions,  such  as  rendering  the  pronuncia- 
tion of  the  vowel  sound  "ie"  by  "a,"  a  common  mis- 
take of  superficial  observers.  At  best,  however,  the 
poems  have  an  air  of  exaggeration  and  caricature 
which  makes  them  difficult  to  accept,  now  that  a  gen- 
eration of  dramatists  and  poets  has  familiarised  us 
with  the  true  qualities  of  peasant  speech. 

Apart  from  this  defect  Jane  Barlow's  stories  of 
rural  life  are  not  without  interest,  and  one  can  easily 
imagine  the  novelty  of  her  first  volume  could  have 
disarmed  criticism  to  some  extent.  In  spite  of  some 
gross  errors  of  transcription,  due  largely  to  the  influ- 
ence of  a  false  literary  convention,  her  poems  reveal  a 
real  knowledge  of  peasant  turns  of  speech.  The 
later  books,  such  as  Ghost-Bereft  (1901)  and  The 
Mockers  (1908)  in  which  the  themes  of  Bo  gland 
Studies  are  largely  repeated,  show  a  greater  restraint 
in  the  employment  of  dialect,  naturally  to  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  poems.  But  ingenious  as  the  stories 
are,  they  have  little  to  support  them  but  the  narra- 
tive interest.  Their  psychology  is  primitive,  most 
of  the  happenings  being  of  the  novelette  description, 
and  worst  of  all,  it  is  conventional  rather  than  real. 
Jane  Barlow's  peasants  are  not  human  beings,  but 
stereotypes  of  the  peasantry,  as  viewed  by  the  upper 
middle-class  section  of  Anglicised  Ireland.  She  is 
not  a  hostile  caricaturist,  her  desire  is  to  be  sympa- 
thetic, but  she  cannot  see  the  country  people  except 
through  the  conventions,  literary  and  social,  of  her 
class.  In  TKOuld  Master,  for  example,  the  first  of 
the  Bogland  Studies,  and  one  that  has  been  highly 
praised,  we  find  all  the  ingredients  of  the  recipe  for 
Irish  fiction  bequeathed  by  the  author  of  Charles 
O'Malley.  The  impecunious  landowner  of  ancient 
family,  adored  by  his  starving  tenants,  the  peasants 
ragged,  faithful,  humorous  and  pathetic,  whose 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  POETRY 


211 


thoughts,  and  their  expression,  are  a  source  of  merri- 
ment to  "the  gentry" — these  are  too  frequently  the 
heroes  of  Jane  Barlow's  adventures.  Occasionally 
she  ventures  to  look  at  life  from  the  point  of  view  of 
the  dispossessed,  as  in  The  Souper's  Widow,  or 
Terence  Macran,  to  mention  a  later  example,  but 
one  has  the  uncomfortable  feeling  that  this  is  "mere 
literature,'*'  so  fundamentally  outside  her  characters 
does  the  author  appear.  Her  fondness  for  the  device 
by  which  inferiors  appear  to  relate  some  event  to  their 
masters,  or  some  otherwise  sympathetic  superior,  is 
significant.  Some  have  pointed  to  this  as  evidence 
of  her  inability  to  dissociate  herself  from  the  char- 
acters she  studies.  So  completely  does  she  identify 
herself  with  them  that  the  narrator  becomes  inevi- 
tably the  peasant  himself.  If  this  were  so,  we  should 
not  be  so  often  reminded  that  the  speaker  is  address- 
ing one  whom  he  considers  above  him  socially.  The 
truth  is  that  Jane  Barlow  is  too  conscious  of  her 
social  relation  to  the  people  described,  and  is,  to  that 
extent,  debarred  from  glimpsing  more  of  the  peasant 
mind  than  can  be  revealed  where  such  a  relationship 
is  emphasised. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS 

THE     THEOSOPHICAL     MOVEMENT.       GEORGE     W.     RUS- 
SELL   (A.    E.).      JOHN    EGLINTON 

WHILE  the  poets  mentioned  in  the  last 
chapter  were  spreading  the  fame  of  the 
Literary  Revival  in  England,  where 
most  of  them  lived  or  published  their 
work,  there  had  come  together  in  Dublin  a  group  of 
writers  whose  part  in  the  building  up  of  the  new 
Anglo-Irish  literature  has  been  of  far  greater  import- 
ance than  is  generally  recognised.  They  created  a 
literary  life  in  Ireland  just  at  a  time  when  some  fusion 
of  intellectual  activities  was  most  essential  to  the 
future  of  the  Revival,  and,  by  living  and  working  in 
and  for  their  own  country,  strengthened  the  roots  of 
Irish  authorship.  Their  example  made  it  possible 
to  end  the  tradition  which  imposed  upon  every  Irish 
author  the  necessity  of  going  to  London,  or  at  least 
offering  his  work  to  English  editors  and  publishers. 
Nowadays  the  greater  part  of  Anglo-Irish  literature 
is  written  and  published  in  Ireland,  following  the 
precedent  created  in  the  period  with  which  this 
chapter  deals.  Indeed,  the  work  of  publishing  and 
editing  was  a  considerable  part  of  the  activities 
which  engaged  the  group  of  young  men  who  now 
claim  our  attention.  Towards  the  end  of  the  Eighties 
there  came  into  being  what  might  certainly  be  termed 
a  literary  "movement"  in  Ireland,  the  presence  in 

212 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  213 

Dublin  of  a  number  of  writers  working  together, 
imbued  with  the  same  ideals,  and  in  constant  rela- 
tion to  one  another.  All  were  alive  with  the  same 
enthusiasm  for  a  national  tradition  in  literature,  and 
had  found  in  O'Grady  the  necessary  revelation. 
They  concentrated  and  condensed,  as  it  were,  the 
hitherto  scattered  elements  of  revival,  and  gave  a 
very  desirable  homogeneity  to  the  rather  isolated  or 
unrelated  efforts  of  individual  writers  in  England 
and  Ireland.  Had  they  remained  together  longer 
we  might  still  be  able  to  speak  of  the  "  Irish  literary 
movement,"  but  they  were  obliged  to  separate,  some 
without  even  leaving  any  contribution  to  our  con- 
temporary literature  such  as  would  mark  their 
passage. 

The  study  of  mysticism  was  the  common  factor 
which  brought  together  the  younger  writers,  W.  B. 
Yeats,  Charles  Johnston,  John  Eglinton,  Charles 
Weekes  and  George  W.  Russell  (A.  E.),  to  mention 
only  some  of  the  names  which  have  since  come  into 
prominence  in  Irish  literature.  By  an  irony  of  his- 
tory, the  late  Professor  Dowden  seems  to  have  given 
the  impulse  to  the  Theosophical  Movement  in  Dub- 
lin. During  the  greater  part  of  his  life  he  was  either 
hostile  or  indifferent  to  the  literature  which  was 
being  created  about  him,  and  not  until  recognition 
had  come  to  it  from  abroad  did  Dowden  permit  him- 
self to  admire  what  his  own  literary  eminence  should 
have  helped  him  to  foster.  Indirectly,  however,  he 
was  responsible  for  the  creation  of  a  society  of  vari- 
ous talents  whose  importance  in  the  history  of  the 
Revival  cannot  be  exaggerated.  It  was  at  Dowden's 
house  that  W.  B.  Yeats  heard  the  discussion  of  A.  P. 
Sinnett's  Esoteric  Buddhism  and  The  Occult  World 
which  induced  him  to  read  these  two  books,  and  to 
recommend  them  to  his  school-friend,  Charles  Johns- 


2i4    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

ton.  The  latter,  doubtless  because  of  a  more  serious 
interest  (we  have  already  referred  to  the  nature  of 
Yeats's  attraction  to  mysticism),  was  aroused  suffi- 
ciently to  wish  to  follow  up  his  new  study.  He 
talked  of  Sinnett  to  his  friends,  and  interested  a  num- 
ber to  the  point  of  forming  in  1885  a  "Hermetic 
Society,"  so  named  after  Anna  Kingsford's  analogous 
society  in  London.  T.  W.  Rolleston,  as  editor  of  the 
Dublin  University  Review,  proved  his  sympathy  with 
the  movement  by  publishing  a  long  article  by  Charles 
Johnston  on  Esoteric  Buddhism.  Thus  the  Review 
saw  the  beginnings,  not  only  of  the  purely  literary,  but 
also  of  the  philosophical  side  of  the  Irish  Revival, 
as  seen  in  W.  B.  Yeats  and  Charles  Johnston,  whose 
first  contributions  appeared  almost  simultaneously. 

Johnston's  interest  did  not  stop  at  reading  and 
commentary.  He  went  to  London  to  meet  Mr. 
Sinnett,  through  whom  he  became  acquainted  with 
various  people  of  prominence  in  theosophical  circles, 
and  finally  he  returned  to  Dublin  as  a  Fellow  of  the 
Theosophical  Society.  It  was  not  long  before  he 
obtained  recruits,  who  in  time  became  the  Charter- 
members  of  the  Dublin  Lodge  of  the  Theosophical 
Society.  This  Lodge,  whose  charter  was  received  in 
1886,  removed  the  raison  d'etre  of  the  Hermetic 
Society,  which  ceased  to  exist  until  many  years  later, 
when  the  title  was  adopted  by  A.  E.,  and  those  who 
formed  the  present  Hermetic,  to  carry  on  the  work 
of  the  Theosophical  Society.  The  corporate  exist- 
ence of  the  Dublin  Lodge  terminated  in  1897,  when 
a  majority  of  the  members  were  reorganised  into 
the  newly-formed  "Universal  Brotherhood."  These 
subsequent  developments  do  not  concern  the  present 
history,  but  the  Dublin  Lodge  of  the  Theosophical 
Society  was  as  vital  a  factor  in  the  evolution  of 
Anglo-Irish  literature  as  the  publication  of  Standish 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  215 

O'Grady's  History  of  Ireland^  the  two  events  being 
complementary  to  any  complete  understanding  of 
the  literature  of  the  Revival.  The  Theosophical 
Movement  provided  a  literary,  artistic  and  intel- 
lectual centre  from  which  radiated  influences  whose 
effect  was  felt  even  by  those  who  did  not  belong  to 
it.  Further,  it  formed  a  rallying-ground  for  all  the 
keenest  of  the  older  and  younger  intellects,  from 
John  O'Leary  and  George  Sigerson,  to  W.  B.  Yeats 
and  A.  E.  It  brought  into  contact  the  most  diverse 
personalities,  and  definitely  widened  the  scope  of  the 
new  literature,  emphasising  its  marked  advance  on 
all  previous  national  movements.  For  example,  at  a 
time  when  Russian  literature  was  only  beginning  to 
penetrate  to  England,  R.  Ivanovitch  Lipmann,  who 
had  just  translated  Lermontov,  was  bringing  home 
directly  to  the  writers  of  the  Revival  the  literary 
traditions  of  his  country.  Lipmann  is  an  instance 
indicating  the  remarkable  fusion  of  personality  and 
nationality  effected  by  the  Theosophical  Movement 
in  Dublin.  It  was  an  intellectual  melting-pot  from 
which  the  true  and  solid  elements  of  nationality 
emerged  strengthened,  while  the  dross  was  lost. 
The  essentials  of  a  national  spirit  were  assured  by 
the  very  breadth  of  freedom  of  the  ideals  to  which 
our  writers  aspired.  Depth  without  narrowness  was 
their  reward  for  building  upon  a  human,  rather  than 
upon  a  political,  foundation. 

Of  the  young  writers  who  created  the  Theosophical 
Movement  in  Dublin,  Yeats  was  the  first  to  make  his 
work  known  in  book  form,  his  Mosada  having  ap- 
peared the  same  year  in  which  the  Dublin  Lodge 
received  its  charter,  while  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin 
was  published  two  years  later.  That  mysticism  was 
but  a  very  small  part  of  his  inspiration  seems  con- 
firmed by  the  fact  that  before  his  companions  had 


216    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

become,  as  it  were,  articulate,  he  had  produced  five 
original  works,  had  collaborated  in  two  others,  and 
was  known  as  the  editor  of  four  collections  of  folk- 
tales. The  only  volume  which  bore  distinctly  the 
trace  of  those  speculations  with  which  the  Dublin 
mystics  were  preoccupied  was  The  Celtic  Twilight, 
published  in  1893,  but  written  earlier.  Its  comple- 
tion coincided,  therefore,  with  the  first  coordinated 
effort  of  the  mystics  to  make  themselves  known  to 
the  public,  when  The  Irish  Theosophist  appeared  in 
the  autumn  of  1892.  This  "monthly  magazine  de- 
voted to  Universal  Brotherhood,  the  Study  of  East- 
ern literature  and  occult  science,"  continued  until 
1897,  when  the  title  became  The  Internationalist, 
which  was  succeeded,  in  turn,  by  The  International 
Theosophist  in  1898.  The  former  journals,  without 
detriment  to  their  breadth  of  aim,  became  veritable 
organs  of  the  Literary  Revival,  whereas  The  Inter- 
national Theosophist  had  no  very  definite  part  in  it, 
doubtless  because  of  the  termination  of  the  Dublin 
Lodge's  existence.  When  the  Universal  Brother- 
hood was  constituted,  the  editorship  of  the  maga- 
zine passed  from  Irish  control.  The  life  of  the  orig- 
inal journal,  however,  was  most  fruitful  for  con- 
temporary Irish  literature.  With  O'Grady's  All 
Ireland  Review,  its  successor,  it  was  a  comparatively 
successful  attempt  to  give  the  Revival  a  worthy 
periodical  literature. 

There  is  no  evidence  of  Yeats's  collaboration  in 
The  Irish  Theosophist  or  The  Internationalist,  the 
Irish  contributors  being  mainly  new  men,  unknown 
to  even  a  restricted  public.  They  constitute,  there- 
fore, an  entirely  different  case  from  that  of  the 
writers  who  were  attracted  to  the  Theosophical 
Movement,  but  whose  literary  existence  was  inde- 
pendent of  it.  It  would,  of  course,  be  rash  to  assert 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  217 

that  the  newcomers  would  not  have  written  but  for 
that  Movement,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  its 
having  helped  many  to  find  themselves,  and  of  its 
having  given  a  definite  mould  and  impulse  to  their 
work.  George  Russell  (A.  E.),  John  Eglinton, 
Charles  Weekes,  and  Charles  Johnston  were  the 
specific  contribution  of  the  Theosophic  Movement 
to  the  Revival.  As  writers,  editors  and  publishers 
they  are  directly  and  indirectly  responsible  for  a 
considerable  part  of  the  best  work  in  Anglo-Irish 
literature.  Apart  from  his  activity  in  initiating  the 
whole  movement,  Johnston  translated  From  the 
Upanishads  in  1896,  published  by  his  companions  as  . 
part  of  that  valuable  enterprise  to  which  we  owe 
A.  E.'s  Homeward:  Songs  by  the  Way  and  John  Eg- 
linton's  Two  Essays  on  the  Remnant.  These  little 
books,  for  which  Weekes  was  sponsor,  were  destined 
to  be  the  beginning  of  a  new  phase  of  Irish  author- 
ship. The  decent  clothing  of  a  volume  of  contem- 
porary verse  was  no  longer  to  be  associated  exclu- 
sively with  the  London  imprint. 

Circumstances  necessitated  the  departure  of 
Charles  Johnston  to  India,  so  that  his  share  in  the 
ultimate  success  of  the  Movement  he  started  was 
not  intimate.  It  is  likely  that  he  would  have  con- 
tributed some  more  characteristic  work  to  the  liter- 
ature of  the  Revival  had  he  remained  in  Dublin. 
His  Ireland:  Historic  and  Picturesque,  which  was 
published  in  the  United  States  in  1902,  contains 
passages  which  remind  the  reader  of  the  eloquent 
splendour  of  O'Grady,  but  it  is  the  only  book  of  the 
kind  he  has  written.  His  essays  in  theosophical 
literature  do  not  bear  the  traces  of  »ationality  which 
constitutes  the  Irish  interest  in  the  work  of  his 
Dublin  contemporaries.  He  left  Ireland  so  early 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  blend  the  Eastern 


218    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

and  Celtic  elements  as  A.  E.  has  done.  Similarly, 
Charles  Weekes  must  be  counted  amongst  those  who 
did  not  leave  behind  them  any  enduring  sign  of  their 
participation  in  this  phase  of  the  Revival.  He  pub- 
lished in  1893,  and  immediately  suppressed,  Reflec- 
tions and  Refractions,  the  first  book  to  appear  by 
one  of  the  new  school.  A  by  no  means  discouraging 
reception  was  accorded  to  it,  for,  in  spite  of  an  inevi- 
table unevenness,  the  majority  of  the  poems  were  of 
a  high  level.  The  dominant  note  is  intellectual 
rather  than  emotional,  as  witness  those  few  verses 
which  have  been  saved  from  destruction  by  the  an- 
thologists, Titan,  That  or  Think.  The  transcendental- 
ism of  the  mystic  poet  must  be  coloured  with  the 
vision  of  the  artist  if  he  would  find  acceptance.  The 
themes  of  Weekes  are  often  those  which  require  but 
a  little  colour  and  emotion  to  lighten  the  burden  of 
their  thought.  Probably  it  was  this  conviction  which 
prompted  him  to  withdraw  the  book,  for  it  is  re- 
markable how  inferior  those  poems  are  in  which  the 
intellectual  content  is  slight.  Apparently  he  could 
not  effect  the  necessary  fusion  of  artistry  and  intellect, 
his  verse  being  too  frequently  either  colourless  or 
superficial.  Exception  must  be  made,  however,  of 
Louis  Verger,  that  powerful  analysis  which  he  calls 
"some  sensations  of  an  assassin."  Here  he  succeeds 
in  combining  the  emotional  and  intellectual  qualities 
which  are  usually  dissociated  in  his  work.  The 
appeal  of  this  poem  is  more  human  than  in  those 
verses  mentioned,  where  the  mind  only  is  stirred  by 
the  evocation  of  an  idea.  The  almost  perfect 
achievement  of  the  purpose  which  Weekes  renounced 
will  be  found  in  the  work  of  the  poet  whom  he  intro- 
duced in  the  year  following  the  withdrawal  of  his  own 
book. 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  219 

GEORGE    W.    RUSSELL    (A.    E.) 

From  the  first  number  of  The  Irish  Theosophist,  in 
October,  1892,  until  the  last  issue  of  The  Interna- 
tional, in  the  spring  of  1898,  an  almost  uninterrupted 
outpouring  of  prose  and  verse  attracted  attention  to 
a  new  writer,  who  sometimes  wrote  above  his  own 
name  or  initials,  sometimes  over  the  pseudonym 
"A.  E."  In  1894  he  was  persuaded  by  Charles 
Weekes  to  collect  some  of  this  verse,  which  appeared 
in  Dublin  under  the  title  Homeward:  Songs  by  the 
Way.  This  beautiful  little  book  had  a  well-merited, 
and  therefore  unusual,  success,  both  in  England 
and  the  United  States,  where,  after  two  Irish  editions 
had  been  exhausted,  new  publishers  were  found. 
Henceforth  the  signature  of  A.  E.,  above  which  it 
had  appeared,  was  permanently  identified  and  asso- 
ciated with  the  poetry  of  George  W.  Russell.  A 
second  collection  of  his  contributions  to  the  theosoph- 
ical  magazines  was  made,  and  a  companion  volume 
to  the  English  edition  of  Homeward  was  published  as 
The  Earth  Breath  and  other  Poems  in  1897.  The 
repeated  signs  of  favour  which  greeted  this  second 
book  definitely  established  A.  E.  as  the  supreme  poet 
of  contemporary  mysticism,  and  made  him  second 
only  to  Yeats  in  the  poetic  literature  of  the  Revival. 
To  many,  indeed,  he  seems  to  have  surpassed  the 
latter,  in  spite  of  the  modest  place  he  has  claimed 
for  his  work.  For,  amongst  other  remarkable  qual- 
ities, A.  E.  possessed  a  sense  of  the  value  of  letters 
which  enabled  him  to  resist  the  temptation  to  over- 
write. Between  1897  and  1904  he  published  only 
ten  new  poems,  and  these  were  scattered  through  a 
semi-privately  printed  selection  from  his  earlier 
works,  Nuts  of  Knowledge  (1903).  The  following 
year  The  Divine  Fision  appeared,  his  third,  and  in  a 


220   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

sense  his  last,  volume  of  verse,  almost  as  slender  in 
bulk  as  its  predecessors.  From  that  date  until  1913 
he  was  content  to  issue  only  another  semi-private 
edition  of  reprinted  verse,  By  Still  Waters  (1906), 
with  the  addition  of  half-a-dozen  new  poems. 
Finally,  in  1913,  appeared  his  Collected  Poems,  one 
volume  which  contains,  as  he  says,  "with  such  new 
verses  as  I  thought  of  equal  mood,  .  .  .  what  poetry 
of  mine  I  would  wish  my  friends  to  read."  The 
book  is,  with  slight  modifications  and  omissions,  a 
complete  reissue  of  his  three  volumes,  the  rejected 
poems  being  only  about  twelve  in  number,  the  addi- 
tions amounting  to  not  quite  twice  as  many.  From 
these  details  it  will  be  evident  that  the  work  of  A.  E. 
must  possess  some  quality  which  is  absent  from  the 
more  voluminous  writers  who  have  failed  to  over- 
shadow him. 

The  basic  element  in  A.  E.'s  work,  both  verse  and 
prose,  is  its  absolute  sincerity,  and  this  is  the  quality 
which  has  saved  it  from  being  lost  in  the  multitu- 
dinous over-production  of  printed  matter.  As  is 
possible  for  a  writer  to  whom  literature  is  not  a 
trade,  he  has  written  only  out  of  a  need  for  self- 
expression,  not  out  of  the  economic  necessities  of 
journalism  or  book-making.  In  Ireland,  as  else- 
where, the  degeneration  of  real  talent,  under  the 
pressure  of  newspaper  popularity  and  the  exigencies 
of  press  work,  is  not  infrequent,  especially  since 
"Celticism"  has  become  a  commercial  asset  of  in- 
credible utility.  To  our  credit  it  is  true  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  literature  of  the  Revival  has 
been  inspired  by  motives  unconnected  with  com- 
mercialism, and  the  best  is  still  free  from  the  taint. 
While  it  cannot  be  denied  that  a  great  deal  of 
worthless  literature  may  be  written  by  financially 
disinterested  idealists,  the  reverse  seems  to  be  the 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  221 

case  in  Ireland.  With  one  or  two  exceptions,  our 
most  valued  writers  have  failed  to  make  a  pecuniary 
success  even  of  a  not  too  restricted  popularity.  On 
the  contrary,  the  most  popular  authors,  who  suc- 
ceeded where  the  others  failed,  have  done  so  to  their 
great  detriment.  Few  Irish  writers  of  any  import- 
ance are  financially  successful,  and  they  owe  what  is 
best  in  their  work  to  the  days  when  they  wrote 
without  a  thought  of  material  reward,  it  being  ex- 
plicitly understood,  in  fact,  that  none  was  forth- 
coming. Until  recently  an  Irishman  'in  need  of 
money  could  not  more  certainly  defeat  his  purpose 
than  by  submitting  to  the  influences  of  the  Re- 
vival. Success  lay  obviously  in  the  direction  of 
Anglicisation,  or,  at  least,  of  "stage  Irishness." 
Both  are  still  more  profitable,  as  witness  the 
careers  of  our  most  distinguished  expatriate,  and 
of  the  Irish  novelist  who  at  present  boasts  the 
largest  circulation. 

It  is  the  mark  of  the  artistic  and  intellectual  in- 
tegrity of  A.  E.  that  he  .has  not  been  spoiled  by  the 
very  real  success  which  has  come  to  him.  The  form 
of  the  latter  has  been  discriminate  appreciation  on 
the  part  of  a  public  wide  enough  to  escape  the  desig- 
nation of  a  clique,  yet  sufficiently  narrow  to  ensure 
the  freedom  of  the  artist,  who  is  not  exposed  to  the 
danger  of  commercial  popularity.  A.  E.  still  writes 
as  he  wrote  in  The  Irish  Theosophist,  with  no  care 
for  the  financial  prospects  of  his  work,  concerned 
only  for  the  truest  expression  of  himself.  He  is  no 
longer  impelled  to  speak  with  the  frequency  of  those 
early  years,  when  the  fullness  of  a  new  revelation, 
and  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  made  silence  arduous; 
when  to  have  refrained  from  speech  must,  at  times, 
have  seemed  almost  an  act  of  cowardice.  Were  he 
not  restrained  by  the  consciousness  of  the  nature  of 


222   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

his  inspiration,  he  might  with  profit  become  a  mystic- 
monger  to  suburban  drawing-rooms.  But  A.  E. 
deliberately  chose  to  dissociate  his  material  from  his 
literary  welfare,  the  latter  being  quite  independent 
of  the  former.  He  could  not  see  his  way  to  continue 
spinning  words,  when  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
weave  a  poetic  fabric  of  ideas.  In  1913  he  collected 
such  of  his  verse  as  seemed  worthy  to  be  preserved, 
and  his  intention  to  make  no  more  verses  was  frus- 
trated only  by  the  stirring  events  which  moved  the 
world  exactly  one  year  after  those  Collected  Poems 
were  printed.  To  the  emotions  of  the  European  war 
he  responded  in  a  fashion  which  enables  us  to  enjoy 
some  further  characteristic  songs  by  a  voice  whose 
threatened  silence  we  should  have  regretted  all  the 
more  because  its  latest  utterances  testify  to  an  un- 
diminished  faculty  of  elevated  poetry. 
*  The  mysticism  of  A.  E.  is  entirely  different  from 
the  symbolism  which  has  given  Yeats  the  reputation 
of  being  a  mystic.  That  which  is  purely  decorative 
in  the  poetry  of  the  latter  is,  in  A.  E.,  the  expression 
of  fundamental  truths.  The  author  of  Homeward 
chose  to  formulate  his  belief  in  verse,  but,  as  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  entry  into  literature  show,  he  did 
so  on  behalf  of  a  definite  spiritual  propaganda. 
Consequently,  no  desire  for  literary  effect,  no  use  of 
poetic  licence,  could  sway  him  from  his  purpose, 
which  was  to  illustrate  from  personal  experience  the 
mystic  faith  that  was  in  him.  Unlike  Yeats,  he 
did  not  seize  merely  upon  the  artistic  opportunities 
of  mysticism,  though  he  does  record  his  visions  with 
the  eyes  and  memory  of  an  artist.  The  externals 
which  attracted  the  instinct  for  beauty  in  Yeats 
were  not  lost  upon  A.  E.,  but  he  was  above  all  con- 
cerned for  the  inner  meaning  of  the  phenomena, 
whose  plastic  value  alone  captured  the  imagination 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  223 

of  the  former  poet.  We  have  already  seen  how 
Yeats  allowed  his  aesthetic  sense  to  outrage  the 
transcendental  common-sense  of  the  true  visionary. 
A.  E.  is  not  guilty  of  this,  for  the  reality  of  his 
spiritual  adventures  imposes  a  restraint  upon  his 
artistic  imagination,  the  latter  being  satisfied  only 
in  so  far  as  is  congruous  with  the  former.  This 
scrupulous  obedience  to  the  desire  for  veracity  has, 
indeed,  exposed  the  author  to  the  reproach  of  repe- 
tition and  monotony.  If  there  be  a  certain  resem- 
blance between  many  of  his  pictures,  we  should 
rather  admire  the  constancy  of  his  vision  than  de- 
mand the  introduction  of  effective  novelties  of  phrase 
and  image,  probably  as  false  as  they  are  acceptable 
to  a  certain  class  of  literary  exquisite. 

"  I  know  I  am  a  spirit,  and  that  I  went  forth  in  old 
time  from  the  Self-ancestral  to  labours  yet  unaccom- 
plished; but,  filled  ever  and  again  with  homesickness, 
I  made  these  homeward  songs  by  the  way."  These 
words,  with  which  A.  E.  introduced  his  first  book  of 
verse,  should  serve  as  a  superscription  to  the  Co/- 
lected  Poems,  so  completely  do  they  summarise  the 
whole  message  and  tendency  of  his  poetry.  All  his 
life  he  has  sung  of  this  conviction  of  man's  identity 
with  the  Divine  Power,  the  Ancestral  Self  of  Eastern 
philosophy,  from  whom  we  are  but  temporarily 
divided.  The  occasion  of  his  poems  are  those  mo- 
ments of  rapture  when  the  seer  glimpses  some  vision 
reminding  him  of  his  immortal  destiny,  his  absorption 
into  Universal  Being.  The  hours  of  twilight  and 
dawn  are  those  which  most  usually  find  the  poet 
rapt  in  "divine  vision,"  and  to  this  circumstance 
must  be  attributed  numerous  landscapes  whose 
beauty  is  undiminished  by  their  being  so  frequently 
seen  in  the  same  light.  A.  E.  never  has  recourse  to 
mechanical  repetition.  For  all  their  identity  of 


224   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

setting,  his  pictures  are  endowed  with  a  fresh  beauty, 
by  such  varied  impressions  as  the  following: 

Its  edges  foamed  with  amethyst  and  rose, 
Withers  once  more  the  old  blue  flower  of  day; 
There  where  the  ether  like  a  diamond  glows, 
Its  petals  fade  away. 

and 

When  the  breath  of  Twilight  blows  to  flame  the  misty  skies, 
All  its  vaporous  sapphire,  violet  glow  and  silver  gleam, 
With  their  magic  flood  me  through  the  gateway  of  the  eyes; 
I  am  one  with  twilight's  dream. 

or 

Twilight,  a  blossom  grey  in  shadowy  valleys  dwells, 
Under  the  radiant  dark  the  deep,  blue-tinted  bells 
In  quietness  reimage  heaven  within  their  blooms.  .  .  . 

Both  Homeward  and  The  Earth  Breath,  from  which 
these  lines  are  quoted,  contain  frequent  evocations 
of  the  same  nature,  and  the  later  poems  show  no 
trace  of  cliche.  For  example, 

Dusk,  a  pearl-grey  river,  o'er 

Hill  and  vale  puts  out  the  day.  .  .  . 

or  that  charming  line: 

Twilight,  a  timid  fawn,  went  glimmering  by. 

Instead  of  reproaching  the  poet  with  the  monotony 
of  his  descriptions,  as  some  critics  have  done,  one  is 
tempted  to  admire  the  skill  with  which  he  contrives 
to  render  his  impressions.     The  genuine  feeling  un- 
derlying   them    is    doubtless    the    explanation.     If  \ 
sometimes  the  transcription  suggests  repetition,  it  is  \ 
because  words  as  fresh  as  the  emotion  prompting  I 
them  are  not  always  to  be  found.     A.  E.  has  not  the  \ 
verbal  mastery  of  Yeats;    the  beauty  of  his  verse 
is  not  so  deliberate.     His  success,  therefore,  within 
the  limits  he  has  imposed  upon  himself,  is  all  the  more 
considerable. 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  225 

Admitting  that  an  essential  part  of  a  poet's  func- 
tion is  to  choose  the  words  and  images  which  render 
most  fully  and  most  beautifully  his  perception,  one 
feels,  nevertheless,  that  the  beauty  of  A.  E.'s  verse 
is,  so  to  speak,  unconscious.  That  is  not  to  suggest 
any  lack  of  artistic  discrimination  in  his  use  of 
language.  At  times  he  certainly  exhibits  an  indif- 
ference to  form  of  which  Yeats  is  almost  incapable, 
but,  himself  an  artist,  as  well  as  a  poet,  he  is  keenly 
sensible  of  the  poetic  art.  The  unconsciousness 
referred  to  is  of  a  different  kind.  It  is  the  apparent 
absence  of  deliberate  intention  in  the  form  and  set- 
ting of  the  poems.  The  dusky  valleys  and  twilight 
fields,  the  pictures  which  captivate  the  eye,  are  in- 
cidental, it  might  almost  be  said  accidental.  They 
occur  merely  as  the  accompaniment  of  an  idea,  the 
prelude  to  a  statement  which  constitutes  the  real 
reason  of  the  poem's  existence.  Carrowmore,  Over- 
soul,  By  the  Margin  of  the  Great  Deep,  Refuge,  to 
mention  four  well-known  and  typical  poems,  may 
be  read  for  their  wonderful  descriptive  quality. 
They  are  like  the  numerous  others  in  their  delicate 
colouring,  and  in  their  power  of  evoking  starry  land- 
scapes, and  the  soft  beauties  of  the  Irish  countryside. 
But  neither  they  nor  the  others  were  written  with 
that  intention ;  whatever  their  value  as  word-pictures, 
to  the  poet  they  are  essentially  declarations  of  faith. 
Those  acquainted  with  A.  E.'s  canvases  will  have  no 
difficulty  in  recalling  the  peculiar  effect  of  his  intro- 
duction of  superhuman  phenomena  into  a  material 
setting.  Sometimes  an  angelic  Being  will  hover 
above  a  plougher  as  he  works,  sometimes  the  body 
of  a  woman  appears  rising  out  of  the  ground.  The 
abrupt  juxtaposition  of  such  figures  in  an  otherwise 
ordinary  landscape  is  characteristic.  These  sup- 
posedly supernatural  phenomena  are  as  much  a  part 


226   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

of  the  natural  scene  as  the  material  objects  the 
artist  is  painting.  He  simply  describes  what  he 
sees.  The  poet  and  artist  being  closely  related  in 
A.  E. — the  themes  and  colouring  of  their  work  is 
identical — we  find  in  his  verse  the  same  peculiarity 
as  in  his  painting.  A  poem  which  reads  at  first  as  a 
simple  picture  of  eveningtide,  with  no  more  than 
the  usual  undercurrent  of  reflection,  gradually  re- 
veals the  presence  of  the  mystic  seer.  The  "lonely 
road  through  bogland"  leads  to  something  more 
than  the  rei'maging  in  the  reader's  mind  of 
a  typical  Irish  landscape.  Like  the  spirit  Be- 
ings in  his  paintings,  the  mysticism  of  A.  E. 
pierces  through  the  word-pictures  and  remains  the 
central  Motiv. 

It  will  be  found  that  this  Motiv,  so  far  as  it  can  be 
described  in  a  phrase,  is  the  relation  of  the  soul  to 
the  eternal.  With  rare  exceptions,  and  these  of 
recent  date,  the  poems  of  A.  E.  tell  of  the  quest  of 
his  spirit  for  the  Universal  Spirit,  they  illustrate 
those  moments  of  supreme  ecstasy  when  the  soul  is 
rapt  in  communion  with  the  Oversoul.  The  hours 
from  nightfall  until  dawn  are  most  propitious  to 
these  visions  of  Reality,  for  then  the  cares  of  daily 
life  have  ceased,  and  the  seer  can  so  concentrate  his 
mind  as  to  obtain  communication  with  the  spirit 
world.  The  frequency  of  the  twilight  setting  in 
A.  E.'s  work  has  already  been  mentioned  as  due  to 
this  fact.  It  is  also  doubtless  a  part  of  that  sym- 
bolism of  which  he  says : 

Now  when  the  giant  in  us  wakes  and  broods, 

Filled  with  home  yearnings,  drowsily  he  flings 

From  his  deep  heart  high  dreams  and  mystic  moods, 

Mixed  with  the  memory  of  the  loved  earth-things; 

Clothing  the  vast  with  a  familiar  face 

Reaching  his  right  hand  forth  to  greet  the  starry  race. 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  227 

"By  the  symbol  charioted"  the  poet  rises  above 
earth,  but  "the  loved  earth-things"  are  coloured 
by  his  vision  of  the  Beyond.  The  violet  and  ame-~ 
thyst,  the  pearl  and  silver  shades  of  night  are  a 
happy  reflection  not  only  of  actual  nature  but  also 
of  the  celestial  cities  and  starry  regions  of  the  soul. 
But  this  distinction  between  the  natural  and  the 
supernatural  is,  after  all,  a  mere  convention  which 
A.  E.  himself  does  not  recognise.  In  using  the  term 
"supernatural"  we  must  remember  that  it  does  not 
exist  in  the  vocabulary  of  the  true  mystic. 

The  divinity  of  nature  is  an  essential  of  A.  E.'s 
faith.  Earth  is  the  Great  Mother  of  whom  we  are 
born,  and  to  whom  we  must  return;  deity  is  every- 
where. Some  of  his  finest  songs  have  hymned  the 
praise  of  earth,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  any- 
thing surpassing  them  in  pantheistic  ecstasy,  The 
Joy  of  Earth,  The  Earth  Breath,  In  the  Womb,  The 
Earth  Spirit  and  The  Virgin  Mother.  Of  the  many 
poems  upon  this  theme  none  is  finer  than  the  last 
mentioned: 

Who  is  that  goddess  to  whom  men  should  pray, 
But  her  from  whom  their  hearts  have  turned  away, 
Out  of  whose  virgin  being  they  were  born, 
Whose  mother  nature  they  have  named  with  scorn, 
Calling  its  holy  substance  common  clay. 

The  recency  of  this  poem  makes  comparison  with 
earlier  utterances  interesting,  as  showing  how  stead- 
fast is  the  belief  expressed: 

Lover,  your  heart,  the  heart  on  which  it  lies, 
Your  eyes  that  gaze  and  those  alluring  eyes, 
Your  lips,  the  lips  they  kiss,  alike  had  birth 
Within  that,  dark  divinity  of  earth, 
Within  that  mother  being  you  despise. 


228    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

The  note  of  conviction  is  no  less  strong  than  in  those 
youthful  lines,  Dust: 

I  heard  them  in  their  sadness  say, 
"The  earth  rebukes  the  thought  of  God; 
We  are  but  embers  wrapped  in  clay 
A  little  nobler  than  the  sod." 

But  I  have  touched  the  lips  of  clay, 
Mother,  thy  rudest  sod  to  me 
Is  thrilled  with  fire  of  hidden  day, 
And  haunted  by  all  mystery. 

One  remembers  that  it  was  no  legendary  youth  who 
preached  to  idle  crowds  the  sacredness  of  the  ground 
beneath  their  feet.  If  A.  E.  no  longer  essays  to  con- 
vert the  populace,  as  in  those  ardent  early  years  of 
his  crusade,  we  find  The  Virgin  Mother  closing  on 
two  lines  expressing  that  original  protest: 

I  look  with  sudden  awe  beneath  my  feet 
As  you  with  erring  reverence  overhead. 

The  soil  of  Ireland  is  sacred  not  only  because  of  its 
common  divinity  as  the  source  of  all  life,  it  has  also 
the  special  appeal  for  us  of  being  peopled  by  the  gods 
and  heroes  of  the  Heroic  Age.  In  A  Call  of  the  Sidhe, 
Dana,  Connie? s  Well  and  Children  of  Lir,  for  example, 
there  is  that  fusion  of  the  local  and  the  universal 
which  is  peculiarly  A.  E.'s.  He  has  made  the  legend- 
ary lore  of  Ireland  comprehensible  in  terms  of  East- 
ern mysticism,  the  result  being  verses  which  are  at 
once  specifically  Irish  and  profoundly  human  in  their 
world-wide  appeal.  A.  E.  is  intellectually  a  citizen 
of  the  universe,  nay,  of  the  cosmos,  but  he  bears 
none  the  less  the  imprint  of  Irish  incarnation.  The 
contrast  between  A  Call  of  the  Sidhe  and  Yeats's 
well-known  Hosting  of  the  Sidhe  furnishes  an  inter- 
esting instance  of  the  fundamental  difference  between 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  229 

the  two  poets.  The  charm  of  Yeats's  lines  is 
irresistible: 

The  host  is  riding  from  Knocknarea, 
And  over  the  grave  of  Clooth-na-bare 
Caolte  tossing  his  burning  hair, 
And  Niamh  calling:  away,  come  away. 

They  capture  the  memory  more  easily  than  A.  E.'s: 

Tarry  thou  yetj  late  lingerer  in  the  twilight's  glory: 
Gay  are  the  hills  with  song:  earth's  faery  children  leave 
More  dim  abodes  to  roam  the  primrose-hearted  eve 
Opening  their  glimmering  lips  to  breathe  some  wondrous  story. 

But  how  empty  they  are  of  the  profound  undertone 
which  finally  becomes  articulate: 

Come  thou  away  with  them,  for  Heaven  to  Earth  is  calling, 
These  are  Earth's  voice — her  answer — spirits  thronging. 
Come  to  the  Land  of  Youth:  the  trees  grown  heavy  there 
Drop  on  the  purple  wave  the  starry  fruit  they  bear. 
Drink:  the  immortal  waters  quench  the  spirit's  longing. 

It  seems  as  if  Yeats  had  contrived  but  an  artistic, 
literary  image  of  a  popular  superstition,  whereas 
A.  E.  refers  the  folk  legend  back  to  its  origins  where 
he  finds  analogies  with  his  own  visions.  For  there  is 
a  certain  incoherence  of  half-realised  beauty,  and 
personal  emotion,  in  his  attempt  to  transcribe  what 
he  has  seen  when  "grown  brother-hearted  with  the 
vast,"  his  spirit  soared  "unto  the  Light  of  Lights  in 
burning  adoration." 

,  The  difference  between  the  two  poets  is  that 
Yeats  is  a  symbolist,  whereas  A.  E.  is  a  mystic. 
They  both  make  use  of  symbols,  but  the  former 
does  not  succeed,  as  does  the  latter,  in  subordinating 
symbolism  to  the  expression  of  truth.  Yeats  be- 
comes enamoured,  as  it  were,  of  the  instrument  and 
loses  sight  of  its  purpose.  A.  E.  is  so  completely 


230   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

possessed  by  the  reality  of  his  vision  that  the  end 
dominates  the  means.  He  cannot  mistake  "the 
perfect  lifting  of  an  arm"  for  the  eternal  moment,  he 
looks  beyond  external  appearances.  In  The  Symbol 
Seduces  he  repudiates  precisely  that  conception  of 
Beauty  which  Yeats  has,  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, accepted: 

And  while  I  sit  and  listen  there, 
The  robe  of  Beauty  falls  away 
From  universal  things  to  where 
Its  image  dazzles  for  a  day. 

Thus  he  describes  the  temptation  to  seek  the  Real 
in  the  Phenomenal,  whereas  his  own  attitude  is 
defined  as  follows: 

Away!  the  great  life  calls;  I  leave 
For  Beauty,  Beauty's  rarest  flower; 
For  Truth,  the  lips  that  ne'er  deceive; 
For  Love,  I  leave  Love's  haunted  bower. 

This  is  the  renunciation  of  the  true  mystic,  who 
cannot  be  seduced  by  the  shadow  of  reality.  A.  E. 
rarely  dwells  with  that  insistence  upon  detail  which 
so  frequently  characterises  Yeats's  dreams.  Where 
the  latter  is  prodigal  of  beautiful  phrases  and  sug- 
gestive images,  A.  E.  is  content  to  give  the  merest 
hint  of  the  wonders  he  has  glimpsed  in  the  hour  of 
exaltation.  He  will  even  confess  to  a  powerlessness 
which  would  be  humiliating  to  the  verbal  mastery  of 
Yeats: 

Our  hearts  were  drunk  with  a  beauty 
Our  eyes  could  never  see. 

The  author  of  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds  would 
prefer,  in  that  case,  to  rely  solely  upon  his  imagina- 
tion for  the  facts,  however  transcendental. 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  231 

From  the  beginning  A.  E.  has  been  conscious  of  the 
seriousness  of  his  purpose,  which  is  something  other 
than  the  weaving  of  beautiful  verses.  In  the  prelude 
to  Homeward  he  cried: 

Oh,  be  not  led  away, 

\Lured  by  the  colour  of  the  sun-rich  day. 
The  gay  romance  of  song 
Unto  the  spirit  life  doth  not  belong. 

His  ears  have  been  attentive  to  the  lips  through 
which  "the  Infinite  murmurs  her  ancient  story," 
and  he  has  told  only  the  messages  thus  heard.  Such 
later  poems  as  The  Iron  Age,  The  Heroes  and  On 
Behalf  of  some  Irishmen  not  Followers  of  Tradition, 
though  in  form  a  commentary  upon  current  affairs, 
are  all  inspired  by  a  deep  conviction  of  man's  divine 
potentialities.  They  bear  a  closer  relationship  to 
the  contemplative  and  visionary  poems  than  do  the 
similarly  recent  and  topical  verses  of  Yeats  to  their 
predecessors.  It  is  this  fundamental  unity  of  out- 
look, this  steadfast  hold  upon  a  living  idea,  which 
constitute  the  special  value  of  A.  E.'s  work/  His 
verse  is  not  so  much  the  utterance  of  a  poet  as  the 
song  of  a  prophet,  and  its  importance  is  to  be  meas- 
ured in  other  than  purely  literary  terms.  He  often 
falls  below  the  standard  of  technical  perfection  which 
was  set  by  Yeats,  and  is  the  latter's  most  valuable 
gift  to  Irish  poetry.  But  depth  and  sincerity, 
coupled  with  a  general  high  level  of  workmanship, 
enable  A.  E.  to  take  his  place  in  the  first  rank.  If 
he  has  occasionally  sacrificed  the  letter  to  the  spirit 
we  know  with  what  intent.  We  know  that  he  has 
aspired  to  give  us  a  revelation  of  Divine  Beauty, 
and  we  are  grateful  that  this  should  be  his  unique 
preoccupation.  In  The  Veils  of  Maya  he  voices  the 
need  for  such  concentration: 


232   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Mother,  with  whom  our  lives  should  be, 
Not  hatred  keeps  our  lives  apart: 
Charmed  by  some  lesser  glow  in  thee, 
Our  hearts  beat  not  within  thy  heart. 

Beauty,  the  face,  the  touch,  the  eyes, 
Prophets  of  thee,  allure  our  sight 
From  that  unfathomed  deep  where  lies 
Thine  ancient  loveliness  and  light. 

More  often  perhaps  than  any  other  of  his  con- 
temporaries A.  E.  has  expressed  his  admiration  for 
Standish  O'Grady,  upon  whom  he  has  written  a 
short,  but  admirable  essay,  which  was  published  in  - 
an  American  anthology  of  Irish  literature.  Like 
most  of  his  prose  work,  critical  and  imaginative,  this 
essay  has  lain  for  years  uncollected,  and  it  was  not 
included  in  that  long-desired  volume,  Imaginations 
and  Reveries,  which,  in  1915,  brought  together  a  num- 
ber of  scattered  writings.  The  files  of  various  Irish 
reviews  testify  to  the  charm  of  A.  E.'s  prose,  but 
only  a  small  part  has  at  last  been  issued  in  perma- 
nent form.  With  few  exceptions,  the  contents  of 
Imaginations  and  Reveries  had  already  been  re- 
printed since  their  first  appearance  in  periodicals, 
but  in  such  a  manner  as  to  render  them  inaccessible 
to  a  large  public.  The  volume  includes  almost  every 
one  of  the  works  which  will  here  be  enumerated  in 
the  order  of  their  original  publication,  and  may  be 
considered  representative,  if  not  complete.  It  is 
the  only  book  of  prose  in  recent  years  that  recalls 
the  passionate  eloquence  of  O'Grady. 

About  1897  A.  E.  republished  two  of  his  essays 
from  The  Irish  Theosophist,  under  the  titles,  The 
Future  of  Ireland  and  the  Awakening  of  the  Fires 
and  Ideals  in  Ireland:  Priest  or  Hero?  These  bro- 
chures bear  evidences  of  youthful  composition,  par- 
ticularly the  first  mentioned,  but  the  second  is  well 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  233 

written,  and  contains  nothing  the  author  would 
now  disown.  There  is  a  fiery  enthusiasm  in  this 
early  profession  of  the  lofty  idealism  with  which 
the  poet  has  since  made  us  familiar.  Viewing  con- 
temporary events  in  the  light  of  spiritual  Beauty, 
the  author  strikes  a  note  which  sings  in  the  same  key 
as  that  of  O'Grady's  passionate  apostrophes.  Thus 
he  pictures  the  awakening  of  the  people,  called  "  to  a 
temple  not  built  with  hands,  sunlit,  starlit,  sweet  with 
the  odour  and  incense  of  earth  ...  to  the  altars 
of  the  hills,  soon  to  be  lit  up  as  of  old,  soon  to  be  the 
blazing  torches  of  God  over  the  land."  Since  the 
epic  historian  of  our  Heroic  Age  had  evoked  the  past 
by  his  brilliant  gift  of  imagination  and  intuition, 
none  had  written  such  passages  as: 

"Ah,  my  darlings,  you  will  have  to  fight  and  suffer:  you  must 
endure  loneliness,  the  coldness  of  friends,  the  alienation  of  love;  .  . . 
laying  in  dark  places  the  foundations  of  that  high  and  holy  Eri  of 
prophecy,  the  isle  of  enchantment,  burning  with  druidic  splendours, 
bright  with  immortal  presences,  with  the  face  of  the  everlasting 
Beauty  looking  in  upon  its  ways,  divine  with  terrestrial  mingling 
till  God  and  the  world  are  one." 

None  of  the  other  essays  in  the  theosophical  re- 
views were  republished,  however,  until  The  Hero  in 
Man  and  The  Renewal  of  Youth  appeared  in  1909  and 
1910.  On  the  other  hand,  some  of  A.  E.'s  critical 
work  formed  part  of  that  interesting  collection  Lit- 
erary Ideals  in  Ireland,  to  which  John  Eglinton, 
Yeats  and  William  Larminie  contributed.  This 
reprint  of  a  series  of  articles  discussing  the  claims 
of  Anglo-Irish  literature  in  general,  and  of  the  Irish 
drama  in  particular,  is  of  special  value  to  the  student 
of  the  Revival.  Here  may  be  found  literary  history 
in  the  making,  for  the  book  furnishes  one  of  those 
unique  instances  where  the  chief  figures  of  the  re- 
nascence publicly  formulated  their  standards  and 


234    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

discussed  their  differences.  The  original  point  at 
issue  was  O'Grady's  statement  that  Heroic  legends 
did  not  lend  themselves  to  dramatic  exploitation  in 
the  theatre.  Yeats  contended  that  they  were  sus- 
ceptible of  being  staged,  John  Eglinton  denied  it. 
The  discussion  gradually  covered  all  the  conflicting 
theories  held  by  various  Irishmen  as  to  the  true 
function  of  Irish  literature.  A.  E.  aptly  summarised 
the  situation  as  a  conflict  between  the  nationalism 
advocated  by  Yeats  and  the  individualism  of  John 
Eglinton,  but,  as  he  pointed  out,  "nationality  and 
cosmopolitanism"  were  the  true  alternatives,  and  it 
appeared  that  at  bottom  all  were  agreed  as  to  the 
desirability  of  the  former.  "To  reveal  Ireland 
in  a  clear  and  beautiful  light,  to  create  the  Ireland 
in  the  heart,  is  the  province  of  a  national  literature"; 
such  was  A.  E.'s  definition  of  the  chief  term  used  by 
the  controversialists.  With  considerable  critical  acu- 
men he  succeeded  in  demonstrating  how  the  conflict- 
ing ideals  of  John  Eglinton  and  Yeats  were  reconciled 
in  this  conception  of  nationality,  and  how  each  con- 
tributed his  share  to  its  realisation. 

The  only  other  selection  of  similar  studies  by  A.  E. 
is  the  little  booklet  published  in  1906  as  Some  Irish 
Essays,  which  contains  that  interesting  examination 
of  Yeats's  poetry,  The  Poet  of  the  Shadows.  Having 
done  generous  homage  to  the  beauty  of  the  imagina- 
tion which  conceived  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin,  A.  E. 
complains  of  Yeats's  attempt  to  make  the  "tropical 
tangle  orthodox."  "The  glimmering  waters  and 
winds  are  no  longer  beautiful  natural  presences,  but 
here  become  symbolic  voices,  and  preach  obscurely 
some  doctrine."  With  a  delicacy  of  phrase  only 
equalled  by  the  gentleness  of  the  criticism,  he  cen- 
sures the  "esoteric  hieroglyphs"  which  have  made 
impossible  the  old  delight  in  the  poet  of  the  Rose. 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  235 

In  a  sentence  he  sums  up  the  difference  which  sepa- 
rates The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds  from  The  Divine 
Fision:  "I  am  more  interested  in  life  than  in  the 
shadows  of  life."  Surely,  no  more  succinct  differen- 
tiation between  the  mystic  and  the  symbolist  is  pos- 
sible ?  Of  the  three  remaining  essays,  one  is  a  reprint 
of  Nationality  and  Cosmopolitanism  in  Art  already 
mentioned,  while  another  is  a  return  to  the  con- 
troversy out  of  which  that  essay  arose.  In  1907, 
however,  with  the  development  of  the  Dramatic 
Movement  nearing  its  apogee,  A.  E.  was  less  con- 
fident of  O'Grady's  error.  He  expressly  states  that 
The  Dramatic  Treatment  of  Heroic  Literature  is  to  be 
considered  as  a  tribute  to  "the  finest  personality  in 
contemporary  Irish  literature,"  rather  than  as  a  refu- 
tation of  O'Grady's  argument  against  the  dramatisa- 
tion of  the  legends.  Finally  mention  must  be  made 
of  On  an  Irish  Hill,  that  charming  mystic  reverie, 
which  introduces  two  of  A.  E.'s  best  lyrics,  and  sets 
forth  the  reasons  of  that  characteristic  yearning  for 
the  hour  and  place  when  "twilight  flutters  the 
mountains  o'er."  It  is  hardly  an  essay  in  the  sense 
that  its  companions  are,  and  belongs  to  the  order  of 
those  dream-stories  which  the  author  so  frequently 
contributed  to  the  theosophical  reviews. 

Several  of  these  stories,  as  distinct  from  the  essays, 
were  published  in  book  form  in  1904,  with  the  title 
The  Mask  of  Apollo.  Almost  every  chapter  made  its 
original  appearance  in  The  Irish  Theosophist  and 
The  Internationalist,  so  that  they  attach  themselves 
directly  to  the  two  brochures  which  were  the  earliest 
reprints  of  A.  E.'s  prose.  The  intervention  of  other 
interests,  and  the  absence  of  any  immediate  attempt 
to  continue  those  reprints,  has  produced  an  interval 
between  The  Earth  Breath  and  The  Mask  of  Apollo. 
In  our  account  of  them  we  have  followed  the  chrono- 


236   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

logical  order,  but  the  two  books  were  written  con- 
temporaneously and  belong  to  the  same  mood  in 
the  author.  The  normal  dissatisfaction  at  the  dis- 
persal and  loss  of  most  of  A.  E.'s  prose-writing  tends 
to  become  acute  in  the  present  case,  for  it  seems 
unreasonable  that  out  of  a  possible  dozen  sketches, 
at  least,  only  seven  were  selected  to  make  up  The 
Mask  of  Apollo.  Why  were  The  Meditation  of  Par- 
vati,  A  Doomed  City  and  the  more  lengthy,  A  Strange 
Awakening,  rejected,  when  their  neighbours,  The 
Cave  of  Lilith,  The  Midnight  Blossom  and  The  Story 
of  a  Star,  were  chosen?  Their  omission  deprived 
us  of  what  seemed  almost  destined  to  be  the  com- 
panion volume  of  prose  which  readers  of  A.  E.'s 
verse  have  demanded. 

Having  recorded  the  general  objection  to  the  mate- 
rial constitution  of  the  book,  we  may  unreservedly 
express  satisfaction  with  the  intellectual  substance 
of  its  fifty-three  pages.  The  author  relates  in  a 
preface  how  these  stories  "crept  like  living  creatures" 
into  his  mind,  when  he  was  but  still  a  boy;  they  are 
to  be  regarded,  therefore,  as  his  earliest  literary  con- 
ceptions. Although  conceived  so  long  ago  they  do 
not  appear,  in  execution,  to  differ  materially  from 
the  poetry  A.  E.  was  writing  at  the  time  these  prose 
fancies  were  first  published.  They  are,  in  fact, 
variations  upon  the  theme  which  is  the  eternal  sub- 
ject of  the  mystic  poet's  meditations,  and  are  an  in- 
dication of  the  early  date  at  which  the  mind  of  A.  E. 
had  become  possessed  of  the  main  tenets  of  his  faith. 
The  characteristic  correlation  of  Eastern  and  Celtic 
legend  is  seen  in  A  Dream  of  Angus  Oge,  but  with  this 
exception,  the  inspiration  is  mainly  Oriental.  Doubt- 
less the  youth  who  first  imagined  The  Meditation  of 
Ananda  and  The  Midnight  Blossom  was  fresh  from  his 
initial  contact  with  the  Scriptures  of  the  East,  so 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  237 

permeated    are    these    stories    with    pure    Oriental 
mysticism. 

One  of  the  finest  visions  A.  E.  has  related  is  that 
which  he  calls  The  Story  of  a  Star.  Imagining  him- 
self one  of  the  Magi  of  old  Persia,  he  observes  the 
birth  of  a  planet  by  the  use  of  their  magic  powers. 
The  result  is  a  splendid  picture  of  light  and  colour, 
in  which  nebulous  and  cosmic  figures  move,  while 
the  whole  combines  to  give  a  rare  impression  of 
visionary  ecstasy.  The  seer  foreshadows  the  poet 
in  such  descriptive  passages  as  that  beginning:  "At 
first  silence,  and  then  an  inner  music,  and  then  the 
sounds  of  song  throughout  the  vastness  of  its  orbit 
grew  as  many  in  number  as  there  were  stars  at  gaze." 
Thus,  one  fancies,  have  been  the  preludes  to  many  a 
song  we  have  heard  A.  E.  smg  as  he  journeys  "Home- 
ward." In  all  these  stories  we  find  a  repetition  of  the 
circumstances  already  noticed  in  the  poems,  the  sub- 
ordination of  fantasy  to  truth.  Although  he  tries 
here,  perhaps  more  than  in  his  verse,  to  note  the 
detail  of  each  vision,  and  to  analyse  the  condition 
which  preceded  or  accompanied  it,  the  philosophical 
idea  is  constantly  emphasised  as  of  most  importance. 
The  Cave  of  Lilith,  the  most  perfect  chapter  in  the 
book,  amounts  almost  to  a  complete  confession  of 
faith.  There  is  more  of  the  fresh  eagerness  of  youth 
in  The  Mask  of  Apollo  than  in  the  better-known  work 
of  A.  E.;  the  stories  are  not  so  finished  as  he  would 
like,  for  he  confesses  his  reluctance  to  rewrite  them 
after  the  first  inspiration  had  left  him.  The  Cave  of 
Lilith  is,  however,  an  exception,  for  the  ripeness  of 
the  thought  is  not  betrayed  by  any  immaturity  of 
form.  It  closes  with  a  passage  which  sums  up  the 
author's  attitude  towards  life  to-day  as  well  as  when 
he  wandered,  as  a  boy,  on  the  hillside,  filled  with  the 
first  exaltation  of  spiritual  consciousness : 


238    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

From  the  Sad  Singer  I  learned  that  thought  of  itself  leads  no- 
where, but  blows  the  perfume  from  every  flower.  ...  I  learned 
from  Lilith  that  we  weave  our  own  enchantment,  and  bind  our- 
selves with  our  own  imagination.  To  think  of  the  true  as  beyond 
us,  or  to  love  the  symbol  of  being,  is  to  darken  the  path  to  wisdom, 
and  to  debar  us  from  eternal  beauty.  From  the  Wise  One  P 
learned  that  the  truest  wisdom  is  to  wait,  to  work  and  to  will  in 
secret.  ...  Of  these  three  truths,  the  hardest  to  learn  is  the  silent 
will.  Let  us  seek  for  the  highest  truth. 

This  has  been  from  the  beginning  A.  E.'s  mission, 
to  urge  the  divine  intuitions  of  the  human  spirit,  to 
seek  the  truth  rather  than  its  substitutes,  to  love 
life  rather  than  "the  symbol  of  being."  He  has,  in 
consequence,  been  a  vivifying  influence  in  the  intel- 
lectual life  of  our  time.  He  has  appealed  to  the 
spiritual  faculties  of  his  own  and  the  younger  gen- 
eration, in  a  manner  which  constitutes  him  a  vastly 
more  important  figure  in  our  contemporary  literature 
than  the  mere  volume  of  his  work  would  suggest. 
As  we  shall  see,  he  has  created  a  veritable  school  of 
young  poets,  not  so  much  because  of  his  literary 
achievement  as  of  his  personality.  This  word,  in 
fact,  explains  his  case;  A.  E.  is  that  most  essential 
requisite  in  Ireland, — a  personality.  It  is  no  exag- 
geration to  say  that  almost  every  Irish  writer  of 
value  to-day  owes  something  to  the  poet,  painter 
and  economist,  who  has  become  a  centre  of  ideas 
which  are  freely  at  the  command  of  all  who  seek 
them.  Nor  has  there  been  any  reluctance  to  profit 
by  this  prodigality  of  sympathy  and  imagination. 
From  the  doyen  repatriate,  George  Moore,  to  the 
youngest  poet  trembling  on  the  brink  of  publication, 
all  have  acknowledged  their  debt  to  A.  E.  We  may 
count  ourselves  fortunate  that  in  addition  to  the  gifti 
of  his  personality  we  are  permitted  to  claim  a  special' 
share  in  the  work  of  the  sincerest  and  profoundest 
lyric  poet  of  the  present  time.  His  delicate  prose 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  239 

and  his  beautiful  verses  were  wrought  on  behalf  of 
all  who  cared  for  Beauty,  for  all  who  had  faith  in  "  the^ 
hero  in  man,"  but  they  were  addressed,  in  the  first 
instance,  to  Ireland.  It  is  not  the  least  part  of  the 
greatness  of  A.  E.  that  his  nationality  does  not  con- 
flict with  the  international  ideal  whose  achievement 
marks  the  progress  of  humanity. 

JOHN    EGLINTON 

The  Theosophical  Movement  in  Dublin  not  only 
gave  us  a  great  poet  in  A.  E.,  but  also  our  only 
essayist,  and  one  of  the  most  beautiful  prose- 
writers  in  English  at  the  present  time.  The  subtle 
thinker  who  is  known  under  the  pseudonym  of 
"John  Eglinton"  has  rarely  ventured  outside  the 
limits  of  the  genre  with  which  his  reputation  is  wholly 
identified.  He  has  written  a  few  poems,  some  of 
which  have  not  escaped  the  anthologists,  but  the 
essay  has  been  the  form  most  happily  cultivated  by 
him.  None  of  his  verse  has  been  collected,  and  its 
almost  anonymous  publication  in  somewhat  esoteric 
journals  would  indicate  that  the  author  does  not 
wish  to  be  credited  with  it.  It  would,  however,  be 
misleading  to  insist  too  strongly  upon  this  suppo- 
sition. Inaccessibility  is  a  peculiar,  but  apparently 
essential,  feature  of  all  John  Eglinton's  work,  and 
should  not  deter  us  from  a  reference  to  the  deep, 
intellectual  emotion  of  The  Omen,  Acceptation,  and 
that  tragic  little  poem,  Names,  rescued  by  Yeats  for 
his  Book  of  Irish  Verse.  There  is  a  calm  intensity 
of  feeling  in  them,  not  unlike  that  which  we  have 
noticed  in  the  poetry  of  Charles  Weekes.  One  hears 
the  cries  and  protests  of  the  mind  as  it  broods  upon 
the  mystery  and  tragedy  of  life.  His  utterances  are 
reasoned  rather  than  emotional  or  instinctive. 

We  must  turn  to  the  prose-writings  of  John  Eglin- 


240   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

ton  if  we  wish  to  find  the  thought  coloured  by  emo- 
tion and  imagination,  particularly  to  his  first  book, 
Two  Essays  on  the  Remnant,  published  in  1895. 
Rarely  has  the  passionate  impatience  of  youth  with 
the  disillusion  of  first  contact  with  the  material 
realities  of  life  been  so  finely  expressed.  The  "heavy 
price  the  gods  exact  for  citizenship"  drives  the  young 
idealist  from  "the  rude  civic  struggle"  in  which  he 
has  no  part,  and  he  proceeds  to  elaborate  in  har- 
monious prose  the  theory  of  society  which  will  ex- 
plain his  own  failure  "to  catch  on  as  a  citizen,"  and 
account  for  the  evils  of  existence.  It  is  his  belief 
that  the  individual  has  outgrown  the  State,  whose 
rate  of  progress  is  inevitably  slower.  The  idealists 
are  unemployed,  for  they  must  await  the  time  when 
the  community  has  come  near  enough  to  the  point 
at  which  they  find  themselves  to  profit  by  their 
teaching  and  example.  The  "Remnant"  must  re- 
tire from  society  to  the  wilderness  where,  in  com- 
munion with  Nature,  they  may  renew  their  inspira- 
tion, and  preserve  their  faculties,  until  the  day  when 
the  State  has  need  of  them.  There  would  have  been 
"no  uneasy  dreams  for  the  Pharaoh  of  civilisation" 
had  the  Chosen  People  of  each  epoch  withdrawn 
from  a  system  in  which  they  had  no  concern.  By 
remaining,  they  become  responsible  for  the  social 
discontents  which  harass  modern  society.  ''The 
French  Revolution  was  only  the  first  of  the  great 
plagues,"  but  many  more  will  follow,  so  long  as  a 
Remnant  is  formed,  out  of  sympathy  with  current 
ideals.  The  Unemployed  Idealist,  finding  himself 
antagonised  by  the  prevailing  state  of  affairs,  longs 
to  escape,  and  "once  man  is  glamoured  with  the 
thought  of  the  wilderness  he  becomes  indifferent. 
He  is  no  longer  a  good  citizen  and  he  affects  with  his 
indifference  those  who  should  be  so/' 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  241 

It  is  almost  useless  to  summarise  in  dry  outline 
John  Eglinton's  thesis;  the  value  and  charm  of  the 
book  are  in  the  writing  or  the  quaint  development 
of  the  argument.  There  is  a  remarkable  character- 
isation of  Wordsworth,  "first  and  greatest  of  the 
Unemployed,"  and  of  Goethe,  who  "by  reason  of  his 
prosperity  became  indirectly  the  cause  of  the  cap- 
tivity of  his  brethren."  With  great  deftness  of 
phrase  the  author  touches  upon  the  various  import- 
ant events  in  the  history  of  the  Chosen  People,  the 
"intellectuals,"  as  he  has  more  recently  learned  to 
call  them.  He  describes  the  Weimar  of  Goethe 
and  Schiller  as  "the  very  chief  emporium  of  ideas  in 
Europe,"  and  refers,  with  delightful  irony,  to  the 
"thought-raising  districts  of  Germany"  where  one 
may  observe  "how  beautifully  pedantry  plays  into 
the  hands  of  poetry."  Striking  is  the  picture  of 
Wordsworth  in  London.  In  spite  of  "the  healthful 
vacuity  of  a  mind  at  ease,"  this  "raw  North-country 
youth"  is  dangerous;  "he  exults  no  longer  in  citizen- 
ship and  the  flush  of  patriotism  is  withered  within 
him."  He  felt  the  glamour  of  Nature,  "tremulous 
with  leaves,"  and  the  City  became  obnoxious  to  him, 
and  thus  he  unsettled  the  poets  who  came  after  him. 
"  No  genuine  child  of  light  but  is  liable  now  to  sudden 
visitations  from  the  wilderness,"  for  "that  Words- 
worthian  rapture,  with  all  the  mystic  elements  it 
held  in  solution,  has  since  permeated  all  idealism." 
The  revolt  against  city  life  and  the  artificialities  of 
our  social  organisation  is,  of  course,  an  essential  part 
of  John  Eglinton's  thesis  and  furnishes  him  with  the 
occasion  for  some  remarkable  fancies.  He  contrasts 
the  city  "run  to  seed,"  when  nature  has  deserted  it, 
with  "a  young  barbaric  town": 

"From  the  engirdling  walls  to  the  threatening  citadel  every 
hearth  is  kindled:  there  is  noise  of  cutting  and  chopping  and  grind- 


242    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

ing,  a  bee-like  susurration  of  homogeneous  employment;  the  sun- 
lit smoke  is  the  city's  breath,  drawn  freely  from  lungs  nowhere 
decrepit.  The  young  men  exercise  in  the  fields,  the  old  men  sit 
in  council,  and  at  sunset  the  daughters  leap  down  the  street  to 
dance." 

Two  Essays  on  the  Remnant  is  from  beginning  to 
end  an  appeal  for  such  an  ideal  as  this  city  sym- 
bolises. As  the  author  so  finely  says,  the  test  of 
the  state  of  civilisation  is  "whether  in  assisting  it 
the  individual  is  astride  of  his  proper  instincts." 
So  long  as  he  must  "crush  his  genius  into  his  clever- 
ness," so  long  as  citizenship  is  possible  only  upon 
terms  incompatible  with  the  development  of  the 
best  that  is  in  him,  so  long  will  the  "desire  of  the 
wilderness"  disturb  the  peaceful  cooperation  of  all 
classes.  "Once  the  mind  consents  to  labour  for  the 
body,  that  is  slavery,"  but  the  Chosen  People  are 
doomed  to  be  enslaved  in  this  fashion,  if  they  con- 
tinue the  pretence  of  being  part  of  a  community 
with  which  they  have  nothing  in  common.  Book- 
making  is  substituted  for  the  brick-making  to 
which  Pharaoh  assigned  the  Chosen  People  of  old, 
and  the  Remnant  find  themselves  engaged  to  min- 
ister to  "alien  interests."  They  are  set  apart, 
because  of  their  dexterity  as  "thought-artisans," 
and  tolerated  on  condition  that  they  "ply  their 
trade"  subserviently  to  the  general  need.  There  are 
valuable  truths  behind  the  fanciful  form  of  John 
Eglinton's  argument.  His  essay  is  a  plea  for  the 
individual,  in  an  age  when  the  domination  of  the 
State  is  menacing;  it  is  a  criticism  of  society  which 
carelessly  allows  the  subjection  of  the  creative  mind 
to  the  exigencies  of  commercialism.  The  Words- 
worthian  mysticism,  or  naturism  rather,  which  has 
remained  a  constant  element  in  the  author's  thought, 
forms  an  interesting  corollary  to  the  mystic  panthe- 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  243 

ism  of  A.  E.  The  uncompromising  individualism  of 
John  Eglinton  inevitably  directed  him  to  a  more  ex- 
elusive  expression  of  the  promptings  of  the  mystic 
faith.  The  ever-present  nostalgia  of  the  green  fields 
and  rustic  solitudes  which  runs  through  Two  Essays 
on  the  Remnant  is  the  instinctive  desire  of  the  individ- 
ualist to  be  literally  alone  with  Nature.  His  attitude 
towards  life  is  dictated  by  the  same  feeling  of  revolt 
against  his  fellowmen  who  have  allowed  life  to  "  coag- 
ulate into  cities." 

A.  E.  has  always  upheld  the  superior  virtues  of  the 
small  community,  he  has  sung  of  the  freedom  of  life 
in  direct  contact  with  the  "Mighty  Mother,"  yet 
he  never  leaves  the  impression  of  fundamental  an- 
tagonism to  social  conditions  which  one  derives  from 
John  Eglinton.  This  impression  is,  however,  in  part 
erroneous,  for  he  himself  subsequently  warned  the 
reader  against  the  theory  of  the  Chosen  People,  "in 
which,"  as  he  says,  "a  metaphor  is  pressed  to  the 
point  of  being  recommended  as  a  gospel."  It  would 
be  unfair  to  over-emphasise  the  exuberance  of  fancy 
into  which  the  young  individualist  was  betrayed,  as 
it  is  unjust  to  essay  a  prosaic  summary  of  his  ideas. 
His  book  is,  after  all,  but  a  beautiful  elaboration  of 
the  individualistic  commonplace  that  the  majority 
is  always  wrong.  Against  the  excesses  of  an  over- 
strained metaphor  we  have  to  set  innumerable 
beauties  of  thought  and  language,  which  only  fre- 
quent quotation  could  adequately  convey.  We 
know  what  a  magnificent  structure  of  prose  Rousseau 
built  upon  the  epigram  Fhomme  est  bon,  les  hommes 
sont  mauvaisy  and  need  not,  therefore,  resent  too 
sharply  the  almost  identical,  and  equally  paradoxical 
generalisation  from  which  Two  Essays  on  the  Rem- 
nant was  written.  This  wonderful  little  book  has 
all  the  qualities  and  very  few  of  the  defects  of  the 


244   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

writer's  youth  and  his  philosophy.  It  was  written 
with  uncommon  skill,  and  balanced  by  the  mind  of 
an  artist,  at  a  time  when  the  years  had  not  yet  trans- 
formed the  farouche  young  idealist  into  the  too  diffi- 
dent ironist  of  later  essays.  His  own  description  of 
the  Chosen  People  at  work  supplies  the  phrase  which 
best  characterises  what  he  must  then  have  been.  In 
the  first  outpouring  of  divine  discontent  we  see  John 
Eglinton  "as  one  who  goes  forth  into  the  morning 
woods,  in  whose  brain  yet  flaunt  the  pomps  and  pro- 
cessions of  his  dreams." 

In  1902  John  Eglinton  collected  some  of  the  essays 
which  he  had  contributed  to  the  theosophical  and 
other  magazines.  Published  under  the  title  Pebbles 
from  a  Brook,  they  are  the  best  and  most  mature 
expression  of  the  author.  The  untrammelled  eager- 
ness of  Two  Essays  is  gone;  there  are  no  experiments 
like  "banausic  murmur"  or  the  "trikumia  of  its 
morning  news-issue,"  to  exasperate  the  misoneists. 
Instead  we  find  an  ironic  detachment  and  a  serene 
pleasure  in  the  philosophic  examination  of  modern 
ideals.  A  corresponding  style  has  taken  the  place 
of  the  highly  coloured  tone  of  the  first  book.  Occa- 
sionally the  earlier  exuberance  breaks  forth,  as  when 
he  apostrophises  the  poets,  taunting  them  with  the 
poor  subject  they  have  in  the  man  of  these  unheroic 
days: 

".  .  .  .  a  shell,  his  power  gone  from  him,  civilisation  like  a  robe 
whirled  down  the  stream  out  of  his  reach,  in  eddies  of  London  and 
Paris,  the  truth  ...  a  cloudy,  evaporated  mass  of  problems  over 
his  head — this  is  he,  homo  sapiens,  poor,  naked,  neurotic,  unde- 
ceived, ribless  wretch — make  what  you  can  of  him,  ye  bards!" 

But  these  passages  are  infrequent,  having  made  way 
for  a  more  subdued  and  more  perfect  dexterity  of 
phrase.  Daring  similes  which  seemed  previously  to 
arise  for  the  sole  satisfaction  of  the  literary  sense  are 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  245 

now  employed  with  less  disinterested  intention,  and 
have  thereby  acquired  additional  power.  Notewor^ 
thy  was  the  eff ect  of  the  allusion  "  a  palsied  beldam 
with  whiskey  on  thy  breath  and  a  crucifix  in  thy 
hand,"  in  an  address  to  Ireland,  contained  in  the  fine 
essay,  Regenerate  Patriotism. 

It  is,  however,  misleading  to-  cite  passages  remi- 
niscent of  Two  Essays.  The  pleasure  which  one  de- 
rives from  the  later  essays  of  John  Eglinton  is  of  a 
more  intellectual  and  more  substantial  order  than 
could  be  expected  from  the  sustained  coloratura  of 
that  admittedly  extraordinary  book.  Pebbles  from  a 
Brook,  particularly,  is  not  a  work  to  be  estimated 
in  terms  of  mere  verbal  affectiveness.  Not  that  the 
graceful  style,  rich  in  subtle  turns  of  speech,  does  not 
contribute  greatly  to  its  enjoyment.  The  form  is  a 
perfect  clothing  for  the  thought,  so  admirably 
adapted  to  it,  in  fact,  that  the  idea  of  careless  writing 
has  become  utterly  dissociated  from  the  name  of  the 
author.  It  seems  as  if  John  Eglinton  can  write  only 
when  manner  and  matter  have  blended  into  an 
exquisite  harmony,  making  of  each  essay  a  well- 
embroidered  tissue  of  ideas.  But  he  no  longer  holds 
the  attention  by  means  of  the  bright  designs  which 
sparkle  upon  the  literary  fabric;  for  we  are  captured 
by  the  richness  of  the  material  itself.  His  funda- 
mental attitude  is  still  the  same,  he  continues  to 
measure  all  things  from  the  standpoint  of  the  indi- 
vidual. "Every  man  embodies  in  his  own  experience 
a  fact  which  no  omniscience  can  comprehend." 
"Man  is  still  the  measure  of  all  things,"  "Give  me 
myself;  the  best  of  yourself  is  for  me  the  second 
best" — such  are  the  recurring  sentences,  the  thread 
upon  which  his  reflections  are  strung.  Every  one 
of  these  essays  is  a  pebble  washed  in  the  stream  of  his 
individualistic  philosophy,  an  idea  examined  in  the 


246    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

light  of  this  faith  in  the  potentialities  of  man. 
Identical  as  is  the  point  of  departure  of  this  book  and 
its  predecessor,  we  shall  find  a  notable  modification 
of  the  initial  petulance  which  demanded — even 
metaphorically,  be  it  admitted — a  withdrawal  to  the 
wilderness. 

Pebbles  from  a  Brook  reveals  John  Eglinton  as  a 
transcendentalist  of  the  same  order  as  A.  E.,  the 
master  ideas  of  the  poet  and  the  essayist  are  identi- 
cal. Man  once  carried  within  himself  all  the  divine 
possibilities  of  human  nature,  he  has  fallen  from  that 
estate,  but  wisdom  demands  that  he  shall  take  cog- 
nisance of  the  fact.  Now,  of  course,  it  is  easy  to 
understand  the  insistence  upon  the  individual  which 
has  been  noted  as  the  chief  characteristic  of  John 
Eglinton's  work.  He  does  not  engage  himself,  like 
A.  E.,  to  illustrate  from  spiritual  experience  the 
truth  of  his  postulate,  but,  assuming  that  it  has 
been  granted,  he  proceeds  to  a  more  impersonal  in- 
vestigation of  the  deductions  to  be  drawn  from  it. 
In  the  first  essay,  Knowledge,  his  task  is  to  demon- 
strate how  utterly  inadequate  and  unrelated  to  this 
fact  of  man's  divinity  is  the  greater  part  of  the  intel- 
lectual progress  upon  which  modern  civilisation 
prides  itself.  "The  age  of  omniscience  is  the  age  of 
agnosticism,"  for  we  have  failed  largely  to  find  an 
answer  to  the  really  vital  interrogations  of  the 
human  spirit:  "the  poet  asks  for  truths  and  is  given 
facts."  We  have  relied  in  turn  upon  the  scholar 
and  upon  the  scientist,  but  they  cannot  help  us; 
"we  must  begin  to  look  to  the  original  thinker  and 
the  poet."  Unfortunately,  literature  aspires  to  live 
"for  art's  sake,"  an  attitude  which  John  Eglinton 
likens  to  "the  declaration  of  a  beauty  past  her 
prime,  that  she  will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with 
men."  Nor  is  this  the  only  betrayal  of  the  trust  we 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  247 

have  placed  in  literature,  for  our  men  of  letters 
have  allowed  society  to  seduce  them  from  high  aims. 
"On  occasion  of  each  new  heresy  the  world  sends 
one  of  its  representatives  to  be  converted,  and  to 
hail  the  new  prophet  to  dinner."  The  idealist  lives 
on  too  friendly  terms  with  popularity,  he  grows  un- 
mindful of  the  call  to  that  mystical  wilderness,  whose 
necessity  was  affirmed  in  Two  Essays  on  the  Remnant. 
The  world  can  be  defeated  only  when  man  listens 
to  the  oracle  within  himself;  then  progress  becomes, 
not  actuality,  but  reality.  "Unless  knowledge  is- 
sues in  a  personality  our  life  is  vain." 

In  Heroic  Literature  the  essayist  reminds  us  that 
the  qualities  in  our  Heroic  Age  which  inspire  the  poet 
are  precisely  those  whose  absence,  or  neglect,  are  the 
basis  of  his  criticism  of  existing  conditions.  Man 
was  then  "a  great  sombre  fellow,  shouting  his  pedi- 
gree at  you  when  he  spoke  to  you,"  for  he  bore  latent 
in  him  the  powers  which  have  since  gone  out  into  the 
arts  and  inventions  by  which  he  is  dwarfed  to-day. 
Our  endeavour,  when  we  turn  to  heroic  literature, 
must  be  "to  get  man  once  more  into  poetry." 
Apostolic  Succession  suggests  how  this  vivifying  con- 
viction of  human  greatness  may  come  to  us.  "Walk- 
ing in  the  woods,  or  by  the  seashore,  or  among  men, 
it  often  happens  that  a  man  experiences  a  rising  ^of 
the  tide  of  perception,  life  inundates  consciousness, 
and  as  it  recedes,  casts  up  in  his  brain  a  melody,  a 
gospel,  an  idea."  It  is  after  such  moments  of  rap- 
ture as  these  that,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  case  of  A.  E., 
the  poet  renews  his  contact  with  Reality  and  gives 
us  that  "transcendental  certainty"  which  John 
Eglinton  defines  as  our  greatest  need.  "We  can 
take  no  delight  in  the  infinite  of  nature,  unless  we 
feel  that  we  too  are  infinite."  In  spite  of  the  evolu- 
tionary hypothesis,  so  flattering  to  our  present  stage 


248    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

of  development,  the  essayist  asserts,  with  A.  E., 
that  we  have  suffered  a  declension  of  our  powers. 
"Evolution  knows  nothing  of  exceptional  tempera- 
ments. ...  It  knows  only  of  householders  and 
shareholders  who  ride  the  central  flood  of  evolution- 
ary tendency,  blown  along  by  soft  gales  of  natural 
selection."  It  fails  to  account  for  the  appearance 
at  the  beginning  of  history  of  the  conception  of 
religion,  but  only  from  these  exceptional  tempera- 
ments can  we  get  a  religious  certainty,  "without 
which,"  as  John  Eglinton  says,  "poetry  cannot  be 
criticised,  nor  philosophical  enquiry  directed."  The 
element  wanting  in  modern  experience  will  be  found 
when  our  creative  minds  have  realised  that  "it  is 
not  the  function  of  genius  to  add  new  trophies  to 
civilisation,  but  to  disclose  to  men  new  depths  within 
themselves." 

The  essays  reprinted  in  1906,  under  the  title,  Bards 
and  Saints,  differ  from  those  just  mentioned  by  a 
certain  actuality  previously  noticeable  only  in  Regen- 
erate Patriotism.  They  were  originally  published  in 
Dana,  the  brilliant  little  review  edited  by  the  author 
during  the  twelve  months  of  its  existence,  from 
March,  1904,  to  April,  1905.  The  offence  given  by 
that  analysis  of  popular  patriotic  sentiment  was 
repeated  in  these  later  utterances,  where  John 
Eglinton  comments  upon  similarly  sacrosanct  idols 
of  the  semi-political  market-place,  and  drew  upon 
him  the  hostility  of  the  enthusiasts.  An  essay  in 
Pebbles  from  a  Brook  entitled  The  Three  Qualities  in 
Poetry  was  the  only  republished  literary  criticism  of 
his  since  the  appearance  of  Literary  Ideals  in  Ireland 
in  1899.  A  reprint,  therefore,  of  some  essays  having 
literature  for  their  subject  was  welcome,  although  a 
greater  generosity  in  the  number  selected  might  have 
been  permitted.  Almost  every  issue  of  Dana  con- 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  249 

tained  an  article  by  John  Eglinton  as  worthy  of  in- 
clusion as  those  chosen  for  Bards  and  Saints.  Writ- 
ten with  all  the  care  and  skill  which  the  author  has 
devoted  to  the  now  rare  art  of  the  essayist,  they 
belong  to  the  printed  book  rather  than  to  the  tran- 
sitory pages  of  a  review.  Those  collected  have  been 
termed  literary,  partly  to  distinguish  them  from  the 
more  philosophical  chapters  of  Pebbles  from  a  Brook, 
and  partly  because  a  reference  to  current  literary  dis- 
cussion seems  to  have  decided  their  selection.  It 
would  be  more  correct  to  describe  them  as  essays 
upon  concrete  topics  of  Irish  life,  as  opposed  to  the 
relatively  abstract  subjects  of  the  former  volume. 

Needless  to  say,  John  Eglinton  is  incapable  of 
writing  otherwise  than  out  of  a  definite  and  ever- 
present  philosophy  of  life.  The  use  of  the  adjectives 
"concrete"  and  "abstract"  is  purely  relative,  for 
he  has  published  essays,  not  journalistic  articles. 
The  "  Three  Qualities"  in  Poetry,  that  most  excellent 
summary  of  the  three  stages  in  the  history  of  poetic 
literature,  is  typical  of  the  best  he  can  do  when  called 
upon  for  literary  criticism.  For  all  its  abstractness 
of  title,  it  is  as  close  to  the  actual  as  anything  in 
Bards  and  Saints.  Perhaps  The  De-Davisisation  of 
Irish  Literature  sounds  less  remote,  but  the  train  of 
thought  which  runs  through  it  is  the  same.  True, 
the  adverse  criticism  of  Thomas  Davis  and  his  school 
was  calculated  to  displease  the  people  who  were 
outraged  by  Regenerate  Patriotism.  Both  are  the 
expression  of  a  conception  of  nationality,  the  one 
relating  to  literature,  the  other  to  politics,  somewhat 
above  the  perception  of  vociferous  patriots.  In  the 
former  case  John  Eglinton  merely  anticipates  a  fur- 
ther extension  of  Yeats's  criticism  of  The  Nation 
poets,  in  the  latter,  he  declares  his  agreement  with 
A.  E.  that: 


250   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

We  are  less  children  of  this  clime 
Than  of  some  nation  yet  unborn. 

At  the  risk  of  being  called  an  "alien"  he  affirms, 
with  all  the  finest  spirits  of  the  Revival,  that  the 
aggressively  patriotic  literature  associated  with  Davis 
and  his  followers,  so  far  from  being  national,  is  merely 
political,  and,  at  this  time  of  day,  morbid.  "The 
expression  of  nationality,  literature  cannot  fail  to 
be,"  he  concludes,  "and  the  richer,  more  varied  and 
unexpected  that  expression  the  better." 

The  Island  of  Saints  and  A  Neglected  Monument  of 
Irish  Prose  are  characteristic  examples  of  the  appli- 
cation of  an  ironical  and  detached  curiosity  to  popu- 
lar subjects,  which  has  become  so  marked  in  the  later 
John  Eglinton.  These  two  essays  are  related,  in 
so  far  as  both  are  an  examination  of  certain  religious 
phenomena  in  Ireland.  In  the  first  the  author  ad- 
vances the  theory  that  Irish  Catholicism  is  an  exotic, 
wholly  out  of  sympathy  with  the  natural  aspirations 
of  the  Irish  race.  The  hostility  of  bard  and  saint  in 
Gaelic  literature,  the  divorce  of  Catholicism  and  lit- 
erature in  subsequent  times,  and  the  peculiarly  Prot- 
estant atmosphere  of  Catholic  Ireland,  with  its 
Sabbatarianism  and  inartistic  puritanism — these  are 
the  facts  which,  at  all  events,  give  the  necessary 
background  of  reality  to  the  slightly  paradoxical  con- 
tention. In  the  second  essay,  the  ramifications  of 
the  problem  are  touched  upon  when  the  essayist 
explains  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  in  the  literary 
non-existence  of  the  Irish  Bible.  Here  are  exhibited, 
in  the  light  of  a  theory  clearly  postulated,  some  of 
the  anomalies  of  our  intellectual  life,  with  its  strange 
silence  where  certain  fundamental  ideas  are  con- 
cerned. John  Eglinton  has  elsewhere  enlarged  upon 
the  hopefulness  of  a  recrudescence  of  religious 
bigotry.  Until  our  system  is  cleared  of  the  stifled 


THE  DUBLIN  MYSTICS  251 

germs  of  seventeenth-century  theological  contro- 
versies, we  shall  never  begin  to  discuss  real  problems 
with  becoming  frankness.  The  history  of  the  Irish 
Bible  becomes  a  symbol  of  the  divorce  between 
things  sacred  and  profane,  which  gives  a  certain 
unreality  to  our  public  discussions. 

Whether  his  subject  is  the  Irish  language  (which 
he  rejects  on  aesthetic  grounds)  or  the  place  of  man 
in  society,  John  Eglinton  is  always  the  same  master 
of  delicate  prose.  It  is  not  necessary  to  agree  with 
him  in  order  to  feel  the  charm  of  his  manner.  In 
Ireland  we  have  so  constantly  heard  unpleasant 
truths  unpleasantly  stated  that  even  the  most  in- 
transigeant  patriot  should  be  grateful  that  one  excep- 
tion exists.  Indeed,  if  some  of  our  more  vigorous 
superstitions  had  more  often  encountered  the  wit  of 
John  Eglinton  their  existence  might  be  seriously 
threatened,  instead  of  being  invigorated  by  the 
blundering  seriousness  of  "  enlightened  "  bigots.  The 
controversial  part  of  his  work,  however,  is  small,  and 
belongs  mainly  to  the  period  of  his  editorial  activities. 
The  brief  existence  of  Dana,  while  demonstrating  a 
premature  confidence  in  the  capacity  of  our  faction- 
ised  public  to  appreciate  the  interplay  of  ideas,  was 
far  from  being  vain.  Its  sufficient  justification  is 
found  in  the  fact  that  the  compatibility  of  literature 
and  journalism  was  proved  in  the  person  of  its  editor. 
Apart  from  this,  and  beyond  all  matters  of  con- 
troversy, lies  the  fine  collection  of  essays  which  have 
established  John  Eglinton  the  first  of  our  transcen- 
dentalists.  His  is  not  the  mysticism  of  A.  E.,  but  of 
Wordsworth,  for  whom  he  has  never  ceased  to  ex- 
press the  profoundest  admiration,  since  the  day 
when  he  greeted  the  name  as  "a  far-fluttering,  unat- 
tainable carol  to  me  in  my  prison."  The  contempla- 
tion of  nature  is  not  for  him  the  occasion  of  those 


252    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

visionary  ecstasies  we  have  found  in  the  poet  of  The 
Earth  Breath,  but  provokes  the  mood  of  philosophic 
revery  associated  with  the  author  of  Lyrical  Ballads. 
John  Eglinton  is  essentially  a  philosopher,  not  a  seer 
or  a  man  of  action,  like  A.  E.;  he  expresses  the 
reflective,  passive  side  of  the  faith  of  which  the 
former  is  the  intuitive  and  active  exponent.  The 
one  is  the  complement  of  the  other,  and  together 
they  complete  the  record  of  the  Theosophical  Move- 
ment in  Ireland.  It  is  not  in  the  nature  of  John 
Eglinton  to  become  a  leader,  and  he  has  regrettably 
allowed  his  most  distinguished  contribution  to  our 
literature  to  escape  the  wide  publicity  it  deserves. 
Pebbles  from  a  Brook  is  one  of  the  few  books  Ireland 
has  produced  in  recent  years  which  challenges  com- 
parison with  the  best  prose  of  any  English-speaking 
country.  It  transcends  the  relative  standards  by 
which  we  have  to  judge  the  bulk  of  Anglo-Irish 
literature. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  POETS  OF  THE  YOUNGER 
GENERATION 

NEW  SONGS,  EDITED  BY  A.  E. :  SEUMAS  O'SULLIVAN, 
PADRAIC  COLUM,  JAMES  STEPHENS,  JOSEPH  CAMP- 
BELL, JAMES  H.  COUSINS,  THOMAS  MACDONAGH, 
AND  OTHERS 

IN  spite  of  the  absorption  of  literary  talent  by 
the  Irish  Theatre  during  the  past  ten  years, 
the  poetic  impulse  of  the  Eighteen  Nineties 
was  not  allowed  to  expire.  The  dedication  of 
A.  E.'s  Divine  Fision  indicated  that  a  group  of  young 
poets,  not  yet  known  to  the  general  public,  was  at 
hand  to  carry  on  the  work  of  the  generation  repre- 
sented by  that  volume — the  last  new  book  of  verse 
to  come  from  the  original  Theosophical  Movement. 
Peculiarly  fitted  for  intellectual  leadership,  A.  E. 
became  the  link  between  his  own  and  the  rising 
generation  when  he  selected  the  poems  of  this  group 
for  a  collection  entitled  New  Songs,  which  appeared 
shortly  before  The  Divine  Vision,  in  1904.  With 
this  little  volume  he  introduced  the  poets  who  had 
gathered  about  him,  and  were  preparing,  under  his 
influence,  to  inaugurate  the  next  phase  of  Anglo- 
Irish  poetry.  With  the  exception  of  Eva  Gore- 
Booth,  none  of  the  contributors  to  New  Songs  had 
published  verse  in  book  form  prior  to  its  appearance. 
Padraic  Colum,  Thomas  Keohler,  Alice  Milligan, 

253 


254   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Susan  Mitchell,  Seumas  O'Sullivan,  George  Roberts 
and  Ella  Young — these  names  were  previously 
known  only  to  readers  of  the  more  eclectic  Irish 
periodicals.  Many  of  the  writers  belonged  to  the 
Hermetic  Society,  where  they  learned  from  the  mys- 
tic teaching  of  A.  E.  the  truths  which  had  fired  his 
own  youth.  In  a  limited  sense,  therefore,  New 
Songs  may  be  described  as  the  manifesto  of  a  school, 
for  its  authors  stood  at  least  in  that  personal  relation 
to  A.  E.  which  is  called  discipleship.  He  was  their 
leader  in  a  more  intimate  sense  than  was  possible 
to  any  other  prominent  figure  in  the  revival  of  our 
poetry. 

The  danger  of  concluding  too  easily  that  Anglo- 
Irish  poetry  has  been  the  product  of  a  school  is  illus- 
trated, however,  in  this  instance.  Although  all  the 
facts  pointed  to  the  existence — for  the  first  time— 
of  such  a  school,  the  work  of  these  young  poets 
betrays  less  evidence  of  discipleship  than  did  that  of 
their  predecessors,  who  lived  in  the  shadow  of  Yeats. 
The  latter,  though  rarely  in  personal  contact  with 
him,  and  too  scattered  to  have  any  collective  exist- 
ence, were  frequently  imitative  and  constantly  in- 
spired by  the  author  of  The  Wind  Among  the  Reeds. 
The  poetry  of  New  Songs  is  the  work  of  disciples,  but 
A.  E.  is  their  intellectual,  rather  than  their  literary, 
master.  His  voice  is  not  one  that  awakens  mere 
echoes;  it  either  reaches  the  understanding,  or  is 
unheard.  Consequently,  his  presence  must  be  traced 
in  the  thought,  not  in  the  literature,  of  his  followers. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  find  grouped  in  one  fellow- 
ship a  more  varied  collection  of  verse  than  New 
Songs.  Alice  Milligan  has  no  trace  of  mysticism,  and 
sings,  like  Eva  Gore-Booth,  of  legendary  days. 
Even  her  pictures  of  the  countryside  are  peopled  with 
heroic  figures.  She  cannot  write  of  nature  with  the 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  255 

poignant  simplicity  of  Eva  Gore-Booth's  Waves  of 
Breffny,  her  inspiration  is  more  tinged  with  politics. 
The  volume  of  Hero  Lays,  which  appeared  in  1908, 
leaves  a  more  characteristic  impression  of  Alice 
Milligan,  whose  hero-worship  confounds  in  an  iden- 
tical enthusiasm  the  heroes  of  legend  and  the  leaders 
of  modern  Irish  movements.  She  represents  that 
modification  of  The  Nation  poetry,  of  which  her 
friend  Ethna  Carbery  was,  as  we  saw,  the  chief  voice. 
Her  best  verse  is  that  in  which  the  political  is  sub- 
ordinated to  the  national  emotion. 

Ella  Young  and  Susan  Mitchell,  on  the  other  hand, 
could  not  have  written  as  they  do,  had  there  been  no 
Theosophical  Movement.  One  slender  volume  each, 
Poems  (1906)  and  The  Living  Chalice  (1908),  is  all 
that  they  have  offered,  so  far,  for  criticism, — a 
somewhat  unsubstantial  basis  upon  which  to  rest 
judgment.  Both  have  evidently  felt  the  touch  of 
mysticism,  and  have  essayed  to  express  the  pro- 
founder  emotions  awakened  in  them.  If  they  are  a 
little  inarticulate,  and  profit  too  eagerly  by  the  help 
afforded  to  their  inexperience  by  more  eloquent 
elders,  we  are  content  that  this  should  be  so,  rather 
than  that  they  should  sacrifice  obviously  genuine 
feeling  for  the  sake  of  greater  independence  or  facility 
of  rhyme.  The  Star  of  Knowledge,  Twilight  and  The 
Virgin  Mother  vindicate  the  original  quality  of  Ella 
Young's  verse,  and  dispel  the  doubts  which  arise 
from  A  Dream  of  Tir-nan-oge — that  prolonged  echo. 
Susan  Mitchell's  Living  Chalice  and  Loneliness  are 
equally  indicative  of  the  power  to  give  a  personal 
inflection  to  the  utterance  of  mystical  verities.  Her 
gift  of  parody  and  satire,  as  illustrated  in  her  second 
book,  Aids  to  the  Immortality  of  Certain  Persons  in 
Ireland  (1908),  has  been  so  evident  as  amply  to  justify 
the  enlarged  edition,  which  forms  a  companion 


256    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

volume  to  The  Living  Chalice  and  other  Poems,  as 
reissued,  with  additions,  in  1913. 


SEUMAS    O'SULLIVAN 


George  Roberts  and  Thomas  Keohler  did  not  at- 
tempt to  follow  up  the  initial  success  which  attended 
the  publication  of  New  Songs.  The  former  preferred 
to  give  his  attention  to  the  publication  of  Anglo- 
Irish  literature,  while  the  latter  abandoned  author- 
ship after  the  appearance  of  his  Songs  of  a  Devotee 
in  1906.  There  remain,  however,  the  two  most  not- 
able young  poets  of  the  group  introduced  by  A.  E., 
Seumas  O'Sullivan  and  Padraic  Colum,  utterly  dis- 
similar in  every  respect,  except  that  of  standing 
quite  apart  from  their  companions.  By  reason  of 
the  unmistakable  originality  of  their  work,  its  strong 
personal  note  evident  from  the  beginning,  Colum 
and  O'Sullivan  were  very  soon  recognised  as  prom- 
ising successors  of  Yeats  and  his  contemporaries. 
It  is,  of  course,  impossible  to  confirm  definitely  such 
a  statement.  Their  predecessors  are  fortunately  still 
with  us,  and  will  no  doubt  continue  to  dominate  the 
literary  scene  for  many  years.  They  themselves 
have  not  given  more  than  a  partial  measure  of  their 
talent,  and  their  success  has  been  duplicated  by  one 
or  two  of  their  own  generation  who  have  since  come 
into  prominence.  In  the  circumstances  it  will  not 
be  necessary  to  emphasise  the  obviously  tentative 
nature  of  any  contemporary  estimate  of  their  present 
achievement. 

Seumas  O'Sullivan  was  the  first  of  the  debutants  in 
New  Songs  who  ventured  to  publish  an  independent 
book  of  verse.  Taking  the  most  beautiful  of  his 
contributions  to  that  volume  as  a  title-piece,  he 
issued  The  Twilight  People  in  1905.  This  was  fol- 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  257 

lowed  three  years  later  by  Verses  Sacred  and  Profane, 
a  smaller  collection  of  like  inspiration,  the  two  being 
representative  of  the  earlier  manner  of  O'Sullivarr. 
His  very  first  poem  gives  the  key  in  which  this  best 
and  most  characteristic  part  of  his  book  is  set: 

It  is  a  whisper  among  the  hazel  bushes; 
It  is  a  long,  low,  whispering  voice  that  fills 
With  a  sad  music  the  bending  and  swaying  rushes: 
It  is  a  heart-beat  deep  in  the  quiet  hills. 

O'Sullivan's  verse  has  been,  for  the  most  part,  con- 
cerned with  the  gentle,  pensive  emotions  of  the 
singer  who  celebrates  the  soft  beauties  of  twilight. 
The  shadows  of  the  poplars,  the  reeds  and  sedges  of 
lonely  moorlands  sway  in  a  delicate  rhythm  which  his 
ears  have  caught.  He  would  "seek  out  all  frail, 
immortal  things,"  the  white  gleam  of  "foam-frail" 
hands,  the  murmuring  leaves,  the  gleam  of  "light 
tresses,  delicate,  wind-blown"  and  of  these  he  makes 
his  song  in  praise  of  beauty.  He  is  unexcelled  as  a 
painter  of  soft-toned  pictures  pervaded  by  the  quiet 
of  evening  solitude.  The  Path,  The  Sheep  and  The 
Herdsman  are  striking  examples  of  this  faculty  of 
evocation,  in  which  the  interior  harmony  of  the  poet 
with  his  surroundings  is  expressed: 

Slowly  they  pass 

In  the  grey  of  the  evening 

Over  the  wet  road 

A  flock  of  sheep 

Slowly  they  pass, 
And  gleaming  whitely 
Vanish  away 

and,  as  he  watches,  happy  memories  crowd  in  upon 
him,  but  they  pass  away  like  the  spectacle  before 
him: 


258    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Whitely  they  gleam 
For  a  moment  and  vanish 
Away  in  the  dimness 
Of  sorrowful  years; 
Gleam  for  a  moment, 
All  white,  and  go  fading 
Away  in  the  greyness 
Of  sundering  years. 

Almost  all  O'Sullivan's  poems  are  saturated  with  a 
wistfulness,  springing  from  the  consciousness  that 
our  moments  of  perfect  happiness  are  gone  before 
we  can  realise  them,  to  return  no  more,  except  per- 
haps as  the  burden  of  some  sad  reverie.  They  are 
"delicate  snatchings  at  a  beauty  which  is  ever 
fleeting,"  as  A.  E.  describes  them. 

Seumas  O'Sullivan  has  created  a  body  of  rare  verse 
out  of  these  impalpable  dreams  of  "Shadowy 
Beauty,"  for  his  recent  volume  An  Epilogue  and 
other  Poems  (1914)  shows  a  continuity  of  mood, with 
undiminished  power  of  corresponding  expression.  In 
Rainy  and  that  beautiful  little  lyric,  Lullaby, 

Husheen  the  herons  are  crying, 
Away  in  the  rain  and  sleet. 

we  assuredly  hear  the  voice  of  the  singer  of  The  Twi- 
light People.  But  he  has  learned  to  extend  his  sym- 
pathies for  the  capture  of  other  themes.  There 
seemed  at  one  time  to  be  a  danger  lest  he  should  seek 
inspiration  too  persistently  from  the  sources  which 
first  enchanted  him.  In  spite,  however,  of  the 
glamour  of  whispering  shadows,  and  evanescent 
gleams  of  fairy-land,  he  began  as  early  as  1909  to 
depart  in  a  new  direction  from  that  indicated  by 
Verses  Sacred  and  Profane.  In  that  year  he  pub- 
lished The  Earth  Lover  and  other  Verses,  a  volume 
imbued  with  a  less  intangible  spirit  than  its  prede- 
cessors. The  poems  of  city  life  are  almost  an  inno- 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  259 

vation,  so  rarely  have  the  poets  of  the  Revival  turned 
to  the  crowded  street  for  their  subjects.  The  moxe 
successful  of  O' Sullivan's  efforts  in  this  style  were  to 
come  in  1912,  when  his  collected  edition  Poems  ap- 
peared. This  is  one  of  the  finest  books  of  contem- 
porary Anglo-Irish  verse,  and  enables  the  reader  to 
form  an  idea  of  the  scope  and  development  of  the 
poet's  work.  It  contained  almost  every  poem  pre- 
viously published  by  him  in  book  form,  and  needs 
only  to  be  supplemented  by  An  Epilogue  to  form  a 
complete  statement  of  the  author's  position  in  the 
history  of  the  Revival. 

Although  the  traces  of  Yeats's  influences  are  slight, 
he  is  the  poet  of  whom  one  immediately  thinks  in 
studying  the  work  of  Seumas  O'Sullivan.  The  latter 
is  obviously  of  the  same  poetic  lineage  as  the  author 
of  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin  and  The  Countess  Kath- 
leen^ but  his  mood  is  very  different  from  that  of  the 
later  Yeats.  He  does  not  allow  himself  to  be  led 
away  into  symbolical  elaborations  of  the  kind  that 
necessitate  explanatory  notes,  whose  bulk  is  no 
guarantee  of  increased  understanding  or  poetical 
enjoyment.  Such  mysticism  as  O'Sullivan  expresses 
belongs  to  the  fairy  order  of  Yeats's  early  work.  He 
is  thoroughly  Celtic  in  his  perception  of  the  mystic 
voices  and  the  spiritual  suggestion  of  nature.  As  a 
rule  this  faith  is  latent  and  implied,  rather  than 
stated.  Occasionally,  as  in  his  latest  volume,  he 
confesses  his  belief,  which  appears  to  be  analogous 
with  that  of  A.  E.  "  I  cannot  pray,  as  Christians  used 
to  pray,"  he  cries,  "for  I  have  seen  Lord  Angus  in 
the  trees."  But  these  avowals  are  unusual  in  one 
whose  introspection  has  been  for  the  purpose  of  dis- 
covering within  himself  the  emotional  harmonies 
corresponding  to  certain  much-loved  phenomena. 
He  is  the  typical  disciple  of  A.  E.,  revealing  the  influ- 


260   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

ence  of  his  master  not  so  much  in  specific  phrases  as 
in  the  general  attitude  and  colouring  of  his  poetry. 

With  charming  humility  A.  E.  has  referred  to  the 
technique  of   Seumas   O'Sullivan:     "he   can   get   a 
subtle  quality  into  his  rhythms  which  I  could  not 
hope  to  acquire."     This  generous  reference  brings 
us  to  an  important  point  of  resemblance  between 
Yeats  and  the  younger  poet.     O'Sullivan  is  unique 
amongst  his  contemporaries  by  reason  of  his  great 
technical  skill.     Even   The  Twilight  People  showed 
extreme  diversity  of  metre,  and  considerable  mastery 
of  rhythmical  effects  and  vowel  combinations.     He 
has  all  the  love,  of  verbal  perfection  which  enabled 
Yeats  to  impose  himself  upon  a  generation  careless 
of  form.     Seumas  O'Sullivan  writes  slowly  and  with 
a  constant  care  for  the  art  of  poetry,  building  up 
gradually  a  perfect  fabric  of  verse,  which  shows  a 
constant  progression  in  technique.     He  is  like  Yeats, 
too,  in  so  far  as  his  work  is  free  from  a  too  obvious 
"Celticism,"  being  profoundly  national  enough  to 
take  on  the  air  of  cosmopolitanism,  in  the  best  sense 
of  the  word.     His  verse  reminds  us  at  times  of  some 
of  the  modern  French  poets  in  its  delight  in  the  pure 
music  of  language.     It  is  a  pity  he  has  not  added  to 
the  three  fine  poems  after  Henri  de  Regnier  which 
were  republished  in  the  collected  Poems.     There  is  a 
certain  affinity  of  manner  between  the  young  Irish 
poet  of  the  poplars  and  the  exquisite  artist  of  eight- 
eenth-century French  landscapes.     They  are  both 
skilled  in  the  evocation  of  the  atmosphere  attuned  to 
the  quiet  melancholy  of  their  reverie.    It  is  as  unrea- 
sonable to  exact  the  formulation  of  a  philosophy  from 
Seumas  O'Sullivan  as  to  complain  that  he  does  not 
sing  of  the  strenuous  life  of  our  own  or  the  Heroic 
Age.     He  has  written  verses  that  are  a  delight  to  the 
ear  and  a  joy  to  the  spirit,  in  which  he  claims  to  give: 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  261 

For  that  fierce  olden  ecstasy, 

For  that  old  singing,  wild  and  brave, 

Magic  of  wood  and  wind  and  wave, 

For  old  high  thoughts  that  clashed  like  swords, 

A  wisdom  winnowed  from  light  words. 

It  will  be  granted  that  he  has  succeeded  in  achieving 
that  purpose.  If  all  our  poets  fulfil  so  well  their  own 
promises  we  need  not  despair  of  the  future. 


PADRAIC   COLUM 

Padraic  Colum's  part  in  the  constitution  of  New 
Songs  was  no  less  than  that  of  O'Sullivan,  either 
quantitatively  or  qualitatively.  Radically  different  as 
was  his  verse,  it  incurred  no  risk  of  being  overlooked 
in  the  favourable  criticism  bestowed  upon  the  equally 
promising  work  of  his  fellow-contributor,  and  both 
were  singled  out  for  special  praise.  Colum,  however, 
did  not  immediately  attempt  to  confirm  the  en- 
couraging judgment  passed  upon  him.  He  waited 
three  years  before  issuing  Wild  Earth,  which  ap- 
peared, with  additional  poems,  in  1909.  Although  he 
has  written  a  great  deal  of  verse  since  then,  that 
reissue  of  his  first  book  is  still  the  only  volume  of 
poetry  he  has  so  far  published.  The  years  following 
New  Songs  were  claimed  by  the  theatre,  to  which  he 
contributed  two  of  the  most  remarkable  plays  in  our 
contemporary  dramatic  literature.  We  shall  shortly 
have  an  opportunity  to  consider  this  side  of  the 
author's  talent,  when  relating  the  history  of  the  Irish 
Theatre,  where  his  most  complete  successes  were 
obtained.  For  the  moment,  this  reference  to  the 
dramatist  will  suffice  to  explain  why  one  small  book 
is  all  that  we  have  to  represent  a  poet  whose  work  is 
more  significant  than  its  volume  would  appear  to 
warrant. 


262    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

With  a  true  instinct  Padraic  Colum  found  a  title 
which  not  only  fitted  the  particular  collection  of 
poems  to  which  it  was  given,  but  was  also  a  procla- 
mation of  the  author  himself.  The  fresh  tang  of 
"wild  earth"  comes  into  literature  again  with  these 
songs  of  a  peasant  lad  who  still  carries  in  his  mem- 
ory the  simple,  strong  odour  of  the  soil  on  which  he 
was  reared.  He  does  not  look  at  nature  with  the 
somewhat  sophisticated  eyes  of  the  city-bred  poet, 
who  at  best  must  bring  to  the  contemplation  of 
natural  beauty  a  mentality  coloured  by  the  literary 
and  philosophical  theories  of  his  milieu.  We  have 
already  had  occasion  to  notice  how  beautifully  the 
charm  and  the  secrets  of  nature  may  be  revealed  to 
one  who  seeks  them,  equipped  with  the  necessary 
gift  of  vision  and  sympathy.  We  may  rejoice  at 
times,  when  highly  cultivated  art  and  intuitive  sim- 
plicity combine  to  give  us  poetry  which  satisfies  our 
sense  of  natural  and  artificial  perfection.  We  cheer- 
fully grant  the  necessary  licence  to  the  poetic  artificer, 
so  long  as  he  shows  himself  conscious  of  the  peculiar, 
innate  quality  of  his  material.  The  poet  is  meas- 
ured by  the  skill  and  congruity  of  his  selection  and 
elaboration.  Padraic  Colum  made  but  the  slightest 
claim  upon  our  artistic  tolerance.  With  a  minimum 
of  artistic  liberty  he  produced  the  maximum  effect, 
giving  us  the  stark  poetry  of  life  as  it  is  felt  by  those 
living  close  to  the  soil: 

Sunset  and  silence ;  a  man ;  around  him  earth  savage,  earth  broken : 
Beside  him  two  horses,  a  plough! 

Such  is  the  landscape  in  which  his  figures  move. 
The  poems  are  concerned  only  with  these  elementals, 
the  plough,  the  land,  the  beasts  of  the  field,  and  the 
human  creatures  who  live  for  and  by  them.  Colum 
excels  in  depicting  the  intimate  relation  of  these 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  263 

primordial  factors  of  civilization,  and  he  knows  how 
to  sum  up  existence,  as  it  seems  to  men  struggling 
daily  in  contact  with  primitive  forces.  The  peasant 
speaks  in  such  lines  as : 

Ol  the  smell  of  the  beasts, 
The  wet  wind  in  the  morn; 
And  the  proud  and  hard  earth 

Never  broken  for  corn. 
> 

If  he  allows  himself  to  comment  upon  these  pictures, 
he  does  so  in  terms  as  simple  as  they  are  profound: 

Slowly  the  darkness  falls,  the  broken  lands  blend  with  the  savage; 
The  brute-tamer  stands  by  the  brutes,  a  head's  breadth  only  above 

them. 
A  head's  breadth?    Ay,  but  therein  is  hell's  depth,  and  the  height 

up  to  heaven, 
And  the  thrones  of  the  gods  and  their  halls,  their  chariots,  purples 

and  splendours. 

There  is  a  rugged  strength  in  such  poems  of  ploughers 
and  sowers  and  herdsmen,  admirably  reflected  in  the 
hexameters  just  quoted.  They  are  never  marred 
by  the  obtrusion  of  merely  literary  effects.  In  all 
Wild  Earth  there  is  not  an  allusion  which  betrays 
the  background  of  a  literature  other  than  that  which 
one  expects  in  the  Irish  countryside.  The  much- 
admired  Poor  Scholar  of  the  Forties  supplies  the  only 
legitimate  atmosphere  of  learning,  with  its  pathetic 
reference  to  an  essentially  Irish  tragedy.  The  author 
had  doubtless  personal  memories  to  assist  him  in 
evoking  that  pitiable  figure.  There  is  a  suggestion 
of  autobiography  in  the  verse: 

And  I  must  walk  this  road  that  winds 
'Twixt  bog  and  bog,  while  east  there  lies 
A  city  with  its  men  and  books, 

With  treasures  open  to  the  wise, 
Heart-words  from  equals,  comrade-looks; 
Down  here  they  have  but  tale  and  song, 
They  talked  Repeal  the  whole  night  long. 


264   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Another  aspect  of  this  absence  of  literary  allusion  is 
the  freedom  of  Colum's  poetry  from  any  suggestion 
of  imitation.  It  is  possible  for  a  more  keen  than 
friendly  critic  to  ascribe  a  model  to  a  large  number 
of  poems  written  in  Dublin  within  the  past  decade. 
There  is,  of  course,  a  trace  of  over-emphasis  in  such 
a  proceeding,  which  makes  no  allowance  for  the  un- 
conscious influences  of  our  literary  atmosphere,  tend- 
ing inevitably  to  lend  an  air  of  homogeneity  to  the 
work  of  the  younger  poets.  Many  have,  it  is  true, 
deliberately  echoed  their  elders,  especially  in  their 
first  books,  but  this  evidence  of  a  weakness  common 
to  all  beginners  must  not  be  insisted  upon  too  harshly. 
So  far  as  Padraic  Colum  is  concerned,  he  appears 
to  have  escaped  completely  even  the  suspicion  of 
being  a  borrower.  Wild  Earth  presents  no  analogies 
with  anything  written  by  his  immediate  predecessors. 
The  young  poet  had  neither  Yeats's  passion  for  the 
music  of  verse,  nor  the  mystic  vision  of  A.  E.  Un- 
like his  contemporaries  he  does  not  oscillate  between 
the  two,  being  as  far  removed  from  the  one  as  the 
other.  The  impression  conveyed  by  his  work  ap- 
proximates rather  to  that  Douglas  Hyde's  Songs  of 
Connacht.  Not  that  Colum's  Catholicism  ever  be- 
comes articulate,  as  in  Hyde's  Religious  Songs,  or 
that  he  displays  any  of  the  dialectic  energy  of  the 
Love  Songs.  His  thought  is  as  devoid  of  specific 
religious  colour  as  his  language  is  devoid  of  that 
Gaelic  exuberance  which  Synge  caught  from  the 
same  sources  as  Hyde.  What  then,  it  may  be  asked, 
is  left  of  the  suggested  resemblance  between  Wild 
Earth  and  Hyde's  translations?  Very  little,  it  must 
be  confessed,  that  is  tangible.  There  is,  however, 
an  undoubted  kinship  of  spirit  between  the  poet  of 
the  Midlands  and  the  poets  of  the  West  in  The  Songs 
of  Connacht.  Probably  it  is  their  common  origin 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  265 

which  unites  them.  They  all  sing  the  same  song  of 
peasant  life,  the  emotions  they  render,  the  scenes 
they  describe,  belong  to  an  identical  rural  civilisa- 
tion. Writing  of  the  peasantry  from  the  inside, 
while  unspoiled  by  urban  sophistications,  Colum 
responded  to  the  deeper  race  tradition  which  still 
survived  from  the  days  when  the  Connacht  poets 
were  similarly  inspired.  He  has  brought  once  more 
the  peasant  mind  into  Anglo-Irish  poetry,  which  is 
thus  renewed  at  the  stream  from  which  our  national 
traditions  have  sprung,  for  it  is  the  country  people 
who  still  preserve  the  Gaelic  element  in  Irish  life, 
the  beliefs,  the  legends  and  the  usages  which  give 
us  a  national  identity.  So  long  as  he  continues  to 
cherish  those  impressions  of  early  life,  so  long  as  he 
retains  his  original  imprint,  Padraic  Colum  will  con- 
tribute an  essential  part  to  the  growth  of  the  litera- 
ture created  by  the  Revival.  Fortunately  he  has 
not  lost  that  eagerness  of  mind  peculiar  to  the  imagi- 
natively young.  He  still  can  view  things  with  a 
certain  fresh,  all-consuming  curiosity  which  lends  a 
specially  naive  charm  to  his  work.  He  is  at  his 
best  when  he  is  simple. 


JAMES    STEPHENS 

James  Stephens  was  not  one  of  the  contributors 
to  New  Songs,  but  as  he  stands  in  the  same  relation 
to  its  editor  as  the  young  writers  we  have  men- 
tioned, it  will  be  more  convenient  to  overlook  the 
chance  which  made  his  the  latest  name  of  distinction 
in  literary  Ireland.  Had  he  come  to  A.  E.  with  the 
others,  we  cannot  doubt  that  he  would  have  been 
included  in  their  company,  for  it  was  largely  because 
of  identical  encouragement  that  a  new  poet  was 
formally  introduced  to  us  in  1909,  as  the  dedication 


266   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

of  Insurrections  indicated.  Shortly  after  the  appear- 
ance of  this  volume  the  activities  of  Stephens  were 
turned  in  another  direction  by  the  extraordinary 
success  of  two  prose  works,  to  which  we  shall  return 
in  a  later  chapter.  His  recognition  as  a  prose  writer 
at  once  dominated  his  reputation  as  a  poet,  having 
come  to  him  in  the  short  interval  between  1909  and 
1912,  when  The  Hill  of  Vision  was  published  as  a 
successor  to  Insurrections.  We  notice,  therefore,  a 
point  of  resemblance  between  Colum  and  Stephens; 
both  became  widely  known,  immediately  after  they 
had  been  introduced  as  poets,  in  an  entirely  different 
branch  of  literature.  However,  Stephens  did  not 
allow  this  popularity  to  distract  him  from  his  orig- 
inal intention;  the  novelist  did  not  absorb  the  poet 
so  completely  as  did  the  dramatist  in  the  case  of 
Padraic  Colum.  He  has  found  in  himself  the  mate- 
rial for  three  books  of  verse,  in  addition  to  his  prose 
work. 

On  its  appearance  in  1909,  when  the  author  was 
quite  unknown,  Insurrections  did  not  receive  very 
widespread  attention.  One  or  two  critics,  who  were 
in  touch  with  the  literary  undercurrents,  used  their 
influence  to  bring  the  book  to  the  notice  of  the  dis- 
cerning, but  influential  comment  was  lacking,  as  a 
rule.  It  was  not  until  James  Stephens  had  become 
famous  as  the  writer  of  The  Crock  of  Gold  that  his 
first  volume  was  favourably  reconsidered.  The  con- 
clusion to  be  drawn  from  this  fact  is  too  obvious  to 
require  emphasis.  It  is  more  interesting  to  note  a 
probably  contributory  cause  of  neglect,  as  evidenced 
in  some  of  the  criticisms  of  a  friendly  nature.  Even 
appreciative  critics  felt  obliged  to  insist  upon  the 
absence  of  "the  Celtic  convention"  in  Stephens's 
verse.  He  evidently  seemed  unconvincingly  Irish 
to  that  numerous  class  of  readers,  professional  and 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  267 

otherwise,  who  have  a  formula  for  "Celtic"  poetry, 
and  are  puzzled,  disappointed  or  indignant,  when  an 
Irish  poet  departs  from  it.  What  this  formula,  this 
famous  "convention"  may  be,  only  the  English 
journalist  can  tell,  since  he  has  invented  it.  The 
poetry  of  Ireland  has  certainly  national  character- 
istics, like  the  poetry  of  France  or  England;  all  three 
have  produced  conventional  poets,  writing  without 
originality  or  inspiration,  but  nobody  has  yet 
devised  the  terms  English  or  French  "convention," 
especially  to  denote  the  characteristic  poetry  of  those 
countries.  In  Ireland,  apparently,  our  poets  are 
supposed  to  turn  out  rhyme  according  to  some  trade- 
marked  pattern.  When  they  do  so,  their  admirers 
are  charmed  at  the  results  of  "the  Celtic  conven- 
tion," while  hostile  critics  dismiss  contemptuously 
what  they  deem  to  be  a  mechanical  product.  The  mis- 
understanding, whether  it  be  friendly  or  otherwise, 
might  be  avoided  if  these  critics  would  recollect 
that  Irish  verse  is  not  more  necessarily  created  by 
literary  formulae  than  that  of  any  other  country. 
Strange  as  it  may  seem,  our  poets  do  not  manipulate 
cliches  with  a  view  to  obtaining  "Celtic  effects." 
Many  are  weak  and  imitative,  many  are  young  and 
unformed,  they  deserve  whatever  censure  befits  that 
condition.  But  they  are  equally  entitled  to  be  con- 
sidered as  aiming  at  self-expression.  In  short,  the 
benevolent  use  of  the  term  "Celtic  convention"  is  a 
denial  of  personal  and  national  characteristics,  its 
unfriendly  use  is  an  unwarranted  extension  of  what 
might  be  legitimate  criticism  of  unoriginal  or  im- 
mature poetry. 

James  Stephens  is  as  truly  Irish  in  Insurrections  as 
if  leprecauns,  banshees  and  fairies,  and  all  the  other 
adjuncts  of  accepted  Celticism,  abounded  on  every 
page.  So  far  as  one  can  discover,  these  are  the  essen- 


268    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

tial  features  of  the  convention  to  which  Stephens 
is  alleged  to  be  hostile.  They  are  certainly  as  little 
in  evidence  here  as  they  are  frequent  in  some  of  his 
later  work.  Neither  their  presence  nor  their  absence 
has  any  relation  to  the  poet's  nationality,  nor  is  a  test 
of  his  literary  quality.  Who  would  think  of  ignoring 
Flaubert's  Salammbo  as  a  masterpiece  of  French 
prose,  in  order  to  insist,  with  friendly  or  hostile 
intent,  upon  its  "Carthaginian  Convention,"  as  esti- 
mated by  the  frequency  or  infrequency  of  his  refer- 
ences to  specific  aspects  of  the  life  of  Carthage? 
Preposterous  as  that  would  be,  it  is  practically  the 
attitude  of  a  great  many  critics  of  Anglo-Irish  litera- 
ture. Its  admirers  and  detractors  alike  suffer  from 
the  hallucination  that  our  folk-lore,  legends  and  cus- 
toms are  merely  literary  stereotypes  applied  mechan- 
ically. The  former  appeal  in  desperation  to  "  Celtic 
convention,"  when  confronted  with  an  original  tal- 
ent, the  latter  entertain  a  superstitious  enmity 
against  leprecauns  and  the  like. 

Insurrections  does  not  offend  the  exclusive  intoler- 
ance of  the  second  class  of  criticism  referred  to.  It 
was,  however,  a  surprise  for  the  worshippers  of 
formulae,  none  of  those  in  use  being  applicable. 
Stephens  can  hardly  have  conceived  an  insurrection 
against  them  as  the  reason  of  his  title,  which  repre- 
sented his  attitude  towards  life  rather  than  literature. 
Rebelling  against  conventionality,  he  could  not  but 
incidentally  flout  the  laws  of  conventional  Irish 
poetry.  For  one  thing,  he  wrote  of  the  city  more 
than  of  the  country,  and  his  verse  was  uncoloured 
by  legendary  lore  or  folk  tradition.  His  imagination 
is  not  haunted  by  any  natural  mysticism,  the  myste- 
rious presences  of  hillside  and  valley  do  not  whisper 
to  him,  his  fantasies  are,  as  it  were,  intellectual,  as 
would  be  the  dreams  of  a  city  child,  as  contrasted 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  269 

with  the  child  born  in  suggestive  atmosphere  of  the 
country.  Seumas  Beg,  for  instance,  in  spite  of  its 
village  scene,  reveals  the  imaginative  life  of  the  boy 
who  reads  the  adventure  stories  of  urban  childhood, 
and  can  invest  with  the  same  romance  the  old  sailor 
who  tells  of  stirring  events  in  distant  seas  and  who 
teaches  him  the  use  of  tobacco.  Similarly  remote 
from  the  conventional  "Celtic"  imagination  and 
peculiarly  characteristic  of  Stephens  is  What  Tomas 
an  Buile  said  in  a  Pub: 

I  saw  God.    Do  you  doubt  it? 

Do  you  dare  to  doubt  it? 

I  saw  the  Almighty  Man.    His  hand 

Was  resting  on  a  mountain,  and 

He  looked  upon  the  world  and  all  about  it: 

I  saw  him  plainer  than  you  see  me  now, 

You  mustn't  doubt  it. 

The  quintessence  of  James  Stephens  is  in  this  com- 
bination of  the  grotesque  and  the  profound,  all  part 
of  that  naive  irreverence  with  which  the  poet  con- 
templates terrestrial  and  cosmic  phenomena.  The 
last  verse  of  this  poem  expresses  with  perfect  ade- 
quacy an  idea  which  none  but  Stephens  would  have 
dared  to  treat  so  simply: 

He  lifted  up  His  hand — 

I  say  he  heaved  a  dreadful  hand 

Over  the  spinning  earth,  then  I  said,  "  Stay, 

You  must  not  strike  it,  God;  I'm  in  the  way; 

And  I  will  never  move  from  where  I  stand." 

He  said,  "Dear  child,  I  feared  that  you  were  dead," 

And  stayed  His  hand. 

The  insurgent  note  of  Insurrections  is  not,  however, 
limited  to  this  almost  colloquial  treatment  of  pro- 
found themes,  which  is  more  characteristic  of  his 
later  work,  and  is  especially  developed  in  his  prose. 
His  insurgency  is  shown  rather  in  a  general  deter- 


270   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

mination  to  see  life  stripped  of  conventionalised  ro- 
mance. The  Street  Behind  Yours  typifies  Stephens's 
vision  of  the  city: 

The  night  droops  down  upon  the  street 
Shade  after  shade.    A  solemn  frown 

Is  pressing  to 

A  deeper  hue 
The  houses  drab  and  brown.  .  .  . 

O'Sullivan  might  have  begun  with  such  lines,  but  the 
harsh  realism,  and  resignation  in  the  face  of  ugliness, 
which  mark  the  progress  of  the  poem,  are  unlike 
anything  written  by  Stephens's  contemporaries.  He 
sees  the  squalor  of  poverty  with  the  dispassionate 
eyes  of  experience,  without  bitterness,  perhaps,  as 
one  describing  the  familiar  facts  of  daily  existence. 
If  the  poet  were  not  so  buoyant  and  natural,  he  might 
be  suspected  of  cynicism,  but  the  term  is  quite  inap- 
plicable to  these  tragic  little  pictures.  Candour  and 
optimism  are  the  springs  of  insurrection  in  Stephens. 
He  is  no  more  depressed  by  what  he  sees  in  the  gutter 
than  he  is  abashed  by  the  magnificence  of  heaven. 
A  strong  sense  of  human  fellowship  enables  him  to 
retain  his  presence  of  mind,  even  in  his  relations  with 
the  superhuman. 

The  Hill  of  Vision,  apart  from  one  or  two  survivals 
from  an  earlier  mood,  brings  us  into  a  different  world 
from  that  of  Insurrections.  Having  ascended  the 
eminence  indicated  by  his  title,  Stephens  is  now 
more  free  to  let  his  spirit  wander  in  search  of  experi- 
ence. Although  no  longer  constrained  to  insist  upon 
his  right  to  view  life  from  his  own  particular  angle, 
he  remains  as  insurrectionary  as  ever.  He  has  left 
the  city  behind  him,  and  adventures  in  realms  more 
unconfined.  Friends  of  the  "Celtic  convention" 
doubtless  found  The  Hill  of  Fision  more  in  harmony 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  271 

with  their  preconceptions,  for  here  the  poet  has  found 
his  way  into  the  country.  He  greets  the  fairies, 
however,  in  a  tone  of  familiar  friendship  not  quiteirr 
accordance  with  the  prescribed  rules.  There  is 
much  of  Stephens  in  that  vagabond  who  says  in 
Mac  Dhoul: 

I  saw  them  all, 

I  could  have  laughed  out  loud 

To  see  them  at  their  capers; 

That  serious,  solemn-footed,  weighty  crowd 

Of  angels,  or  say  resurrected  drapers:  .  .  . 

It  is  with  such  whimsical  fancies  that  Stephens  re- 
counts his  visions  of  that  super-terrestrial  world  of 
which  the  mystic  poets  have  reverently  written. 
By  comparison  he  seems  like  the  tramp  Mac  Dhoul, 
whose  sense  of  humour  is  revolted  by  the  staid  com- 
pany of  angels: 

And  suddenly, 

As  silent  as  a  ghost, 

I  jumped  out  from  the  bush, 

Went  scooting  through  the  glaring,  nerveless  host 

All  petrified,  all  gaping  in  a  hush: 

Came  to  the  throne  and,  nimble  as  a  rat, 

Hopped  up  it,  squatted  close,  and  there  I  sat 

Squirming  with  laughter  till  I  had  to  cry 

To  see  Him  standing  there.  .  .  . 

Mac  Dhoul  was  hurled  incontinently  to  earth  for  his 
irreverent  intrusion,  but  announced  himself  impeni- 
tent by  preparing  to  sing  a  song  of  less  elevated 
beings.  To  some,  no  doubt,  the  poet's  escapades  ap- 
pear of  a  similar  character,  and  they  have  attempted 
to  punish  his  irreverence  accordingly.  But  we  need 
have  no  fear  that  Stephens  will  violate  the  sanctities, 
where  imagination  allows  him  to  play,  with  grotesque 
effect. 


272    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

There  has  been,  perhaps,  too  much  emphasis  of 
one  side  of  James  Stephens's  talent,  the  side,  more- 
over, which  has  been  most  adequately  expressed  in 
his  prose.  There,  as  we  shall  see,  this  exuberance 
of  the  fantastic  spirit  does  not  so  easily  incur  the 
risk  of  being  misunderstood.  Not  that  The  Hill  of 
Vision  really  justifies  any  misunderstanding  of  the 
poet's  sense  of  values.  The  Fulness  of  Time  is  an 
interesting  example  of  the  transition  which  prepares 
us  for  the  more  powerful  verses  of  his  riper  manner. 
There  is  just  the  faintest  suggestion  of  the  early 
Insurrections  in  the  matter-of-fact  precision  of: 

On  a  rusty  iron  throne 

Past  the  furthest  star  of  space 

I  saw  Satan  sit  alone, 

Old  and  haggard  was  his  face;  .  .  . 

but  there  is  restraint  and  depth,  announcing  a 
capacity  for  philosophic  emotion  hardly  suspected 
in  his  first  book.  The  Lonely  God,  to  which  the  poem 
quoted  leads  by  natural  progression,  is  a  fine  con- 
ception, whose  fulfilment  is  accompanied  by  all  the 
tokens  of  great  poetic  strength,  descriptive,  narra- 
tive and  intellectual.  Shorter,  but  equally  signifi- 
cant, is  Eve,  which  presents  analogies  with  the  poetry 
of  A.  E.,  being  informed  by  an  identity  of  thought. 
Evidence  of  A.  E.'s  influence  upon  Stephens  can  be 
found  nowhere  more  beautifully  revealed  than  in 
The  Breath  of  Life,  a  poem  unsurpassed  by  any  of  the 
younger  Irish  writers: 

The  breath  that  is  the  very  breath  of  life 

Throbbed  close  to  me:  I  heard  the  pulses  beat, 

That  lift  the  universes  into  heat: 

The  slow  withdrawal,  and  the  deeper  strife 

Of  His  wide  respiration,  like  a  sea 

It  ebbed  and  flooded  through  immensity. 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  273 

The  closing  verses  paint  the  coming  of  dawn  in 
colours  combined  by  an  artist  who  can  convey  a  new 
delight  in  that  eternal  wonder. 

Published  in  1915,  Songs  from  the  Clay  is  the  book 
of  a  writer  now  known  all  over  the  English-speaking 
world.  If  the  fame  of  the  Crock  of  Gold  tended  to 
obscure  the  merits  of  The  Hill  of  Vision,  its  influence 
has  been  the  reverse  in  the  present  instance.  Many 
readers  of  the  poet's  latest  volume  will  have  been 
procured  by  the  charm  of  the  prose-writer.  Songs 
from  the  Clay  does  not  need  any  reflected  light  to 
attract  attention,  but  it  cannot  be  said  to  mark  any 
advance  upon  the  poems  which  immediately  pre- 
ceded it.  It  has  not  the  irregularities  of  The  Hill  of 
Vision,  there  is  a  firmness  of  technique  indicating 
progress  in  the  art  of  verse,  but  this  even  level  of 
execution  excludes  the  soaring  as  well  as  the  falling 
of  the  earlier  poetry.  One  is  reminded  more  fre- 
quently of  Insurrections  than  of  the  second  volume, 
but  now  there  is  something  a  little  too  conscious  in 
the  grotesque  which  pleased  when  it  seemed  instinc- 
tive. The  Four  Old  Men,  for  example,  has  a  too 
deliberate  air  of  unexpectedness  to  compare  with 
Hate,  that  early  poem  in  which,  though  entirely  dis- 
similar, the  same  effect  was  secured  in  the  last  line. 
The  Satyr,  The  Snare  and  some  others,  might  be 
included  in  The  Hill  of  Vision;  they  are  an  indication 
of  a  talent  not  fully  exploited  in  the  collection  as  a 
whole.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  author  did  not  wait 
until  material  for  a  book  of  verse  was  at  hand  ample 
enough  to  permit  the  exclusion  of  those  attempts  at 
recapturing  the  success  of  his  first  volume.  The 
spontaneity  of  the  original  "insurrectionary"  mood 
is  not  in  them,  and  they  merely  detract  from  the 
quality  of  such  poems  as  The  Road  or  The  Liar. 
Perhaps  the  destiny  of  Stephens  was  that  he  should 


274    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

find  in  prose  the  happiest  exercise  of  his  delightful 
imagination.  His  recognition  has  been  so  sudden 
and  so  rapid  that  positive  assertion  as  to  the  sig- 
nificance of  his  separate  achievements  in  prose  and 
verse  are  of  little  assistance  in  estimating  what  may 
be  the  subsequent  evolution  of  his  work.  He  is 
happily  at  the  outset  of  his  career,  which  may  ulti- 
mately be  identified  with  the  branch  of  literature  to 
which  he  was  first  attracted.  At  the  present  time 
the  contrary  would  seem  to  be  indicated  by  the  fact 
that  The  Hill  of  Fision  remains  his  most  noteworthy 
contribution  to  contemporary  poetry. 

JOSEPH    CAMPBELL    (SEOSAMH    MACCATHMHAOIL) 

Standing  a  little  apart  from  the  group  of  poets  just 
mentioned  is  the  writer  who,  until  recently,  signed 
his  verse  with  the  Gaelic  form  of  his  name,  Joseph 
Campbell,  the  latter  having  been  associated  only 
with  his  later  dramatic  and  prose  work.  Since  he 
appears  to  have  abandoned  "Seosamh  MacCathm- 
haoil,"  we  may  now  use  the  English  form,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  it  was  not  identified  with  any  of  the  verse 
we  shall  mention,  prior  to  Irishry  published  in  1914. 

In  the  same  year  as  saw  the  publication  of  New 
Songs,  the  literary  spirit  of  Ulster  crystallised  in  the 
establishment  of  the  Ulster  Literary  Theatre,  and 
the  creation  of  an  interesting  review,  Uladh,  whose  first 
number  appeared  in  November,  1904.  The  most 
important  contributor  to  that  issue  was  Joseph 
Campbell,  one  of  the  editors,  whose  synonymous 
Gaelic  signature  introduced  him  as  the  author  of  a 
prose  fantasy  of  Northern  legend,  and  a  dramatic 
piece,  The  Little  Cowherd  of  Slainge,  also  in  prose, 
and  dedicated  to  the  Ulster  Theatre.  Shortly  before 
this  there  had  appeared  a  charming  work  of  collabo- 
ration, Songs  of  Uladh,  which  contained  the  first  pub- 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  275 

lication  of  Campbell's  verse  in  book  form.  This 
handsome  work,  illustrated  by  the  poet's  brother, 
is  a  collection  of  traditional  Ulster  melodies,  in  which 
Joseph  Campbell's  share  was  to  provide  English 
words  for  the  songs,  whose  music  had  been  gathered 
from  the  lips  of  the  Donegal  peasantry.  The  sym- 
pathy with  the  Ulster  folk-tradition  evidenced  by 
these  renderings  of  popular  ballads,  and  the  inti- 
mate interest  of  the  explanatory  notes,  point  to  the 
subsequent  development  of  the  poet's  talent.  At 
the  same  time  they  explain  why  the  author  belongs 
to  a  different  category  from  his  contemporaries. 
He  was  moulded  by  other  influences,  and  is,  in  spite 
of  his  later  residence  in  Dublin,  an  Ulster  poet, 
carrying  with  him  the  atmosphere  of  his  early  envi- 
ronment. 

In  the  following  year,  1905,  Joseph  Campbell's 
first  collection  of  poems,  The  Garden  of  the  Bees,  was 
published  in  Belfast.  It  was  a  book  of  uncertain 
rhythms  and  faulty  rhymes,  containing  more  evi- 
dence of  the  young  poet's  reading  than  of  himself. 
The  inevitable  memory  of  Yeats  is  present  in  certain 
characteristic  phrases,  although  not  so  frequently 
as  to  stamp  the  author  as  a  disciple.  He  is  saved 
from  this  by  the  distinctly  Northern  Gaelic  flavour 
of  many  of  the  more  promising  verses.  The  Rush- 
light followed  in  1906,  a  more  authentic  herald  of  the 
poetry  with  which  Campbell  is  now  identified.  It 
opens  with  that  fine  poem : 

I  am  the  mountain  singer — 
The  voice  of  the  peasant's  dream, 
The  cry  of  the  wind  on  the  wooded  hill, 
The  leap  of  the  trout  in  the  stream. 

which  is,  so  to  speak,  a  declaration  of  the  poet's 
intentions,  so  aptly  does  it  summarise  the  scope  of 
the  volume: 


276   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Quiet  and  love  I  sing — 
The  cairn  on  the  mountain  crest, 
That  cailin  in  her  shepherd's  arms, 
The  child  at  its  mother's  breast. 

Beauty  and  peace  I  sing — 
The  fire  on  the  open  hearth, 
The  cailleach  spinning  at  her  wheel, 
The  plough  in  the  broken  earth. 

The  Rushlight  is  a  book  of  folk-poetry,  written  out  of 
the  same  inspiration  as  Colum's  Wild  Earth.  The 
author  returns  to  the  soil  of  Ulster  with  results  which 
make  the  reader  forget  the  banalities  of  The  Garden 
of  the  Bees.  The  best  poems  of  the  latter  are  re- 
printed, The  Golden  Hills  of  Baile-Eocain,  I  will  go 
with  my  Father  a-Ploughing,  and  even  Songs  of 
Uladh  is  laid  under  contribution.  In  thus  reverting 
to  his  origins  Campbell  found  his  truest  vein.  When 
he  sings  of  the  simple  things  of  Irish  life — the  peasant 
girls,  the  women  at  their  doors,  the  tales  of  faery, 
the  tranquil,  healthy  joys  and  the  natural  tragedies 
of  the  peasantry — he  is  unequalled.  He  attains  the 
same  simplicity  as  Colum;  he  is  free  from  literary 
mannerism  when  he  turns  his  attention  to  these 
fundamental  aspects  of  existence  as  seen  and  lived 
in  the  face  of  nature.  He  has  been  rather  naively 
accused  of  treating  the  Christian  mysteries  as  folk- 
lore, as  if  he  were  not  in  harmony  with  an  essential 
feature  of  the  still-living  Gaelic  tradition  in  so  doing. 
Preferable  to  the  almost  orthodox,  if  rather  unex- 
pectedly Whitmanesque,  0  Beauty  of  the  World,  is 
The  Gilly  of  Christ: 

I  am  tKte  gilly  of  Christ, 
The  mate  of  Mary's  son; 
I  run  the  roads  at  seeding-time, 
And  when  the  harvest's  done. 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  277 

I  sleep  among  the  hills, 

The  heather  is  my  bed; 

I  dip  the  termon-well  for  drink, 

And  pull  the  sloe  for  bread. 

As  indicating  how  much  of  the  later  Joseph  Camp- 
bell— in  a  sense,  the  earlier  and  most  original — was  in 
The  Rushlight,  we  may  note  that  two  of  the  poems 
most  admired  became  the  title-pieces  of  subsequent 
volumes,  The  Gilly  of  Christ  (1907)  and  The  Moun- 
tainy  Singer  (1909).  These  were  preceded  by  a 
curious  booklet,  The  Man-Child,  also  published  in 
1907.  The  latter  is  described  by  the  author  as  "an 
attempt  at  the  expression  of  the  theory  that  Art, 
being  a  thing  removed  from  Life,  is  unelemental, 
exaggerated,  false."  As  for  the  title,  it  is  to  be 
understood  as  "  a  symbol  of  the  virile  and  regenerate 
Ireland  that  is  now  springing  into  being."  Formid- 
able as  all  this  sounds  in  the  foreword  to  a  mere  hand- 
ful of  verse,  the  latter  are  not  submerged  by  theories 
and  intentions.  Quotations,  ranging  from  S.  Chry- 
sostom  to  Nietzsche,  and  including  Carlyle,  Whitman, 
and  A.  E.,  appear  as  mottoes  to  each  poem,  but, 
nevertheless,  they  do  not  obscure  the  natural 
beauties  of  such  lines  as : 

The  silence  of  unlaboured  fields 
Lies  like  a  judgment  on  the  air: 
A  human  voice  is  never  heard: 
The  sighing  grass  is  everywhere — 
The  sighing  grass,  the  shadowed  sky, 
The  cattle  crying  wearily! 

The  Mountainy  Singer,  Campbell's  first  substantial 
volume  of  collected  verse,  contains  the  best  of  his 
work  between  1905  and  1909,  many  additional  poems 
being  included  with  those  previously  published.  The 
two  manners  which  were  indicated  in  The  Gilly  of 
Christ  and  the  poem  which  gives  its  name  to  this 


278    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

collection,  cover,  broadly  speaking,  all  that  he  has 
preserved  in  this  book.  On  the  one  hand  are  the 
songs  of  country  life  and  legend,  on  the  other,  the 
poems  of  Christian  folk-lore.  The  latter,  here  re- 
vised and  more  numerous,  are  perhaps  the  most  orig- 
inal part  of  Campbell's  work.  Others  have  sought 
and  found  close  to  the  soil  the  material  of  poetry;  in 
this  respect  Padraic  Colum  and  he  are  very  similar. 
But  the  author  of  Wild  Earth  has  never  cared  to 
elaborate  the  Catholic  mysteries  into  verse  of  a 
strange  folk-charm.  Joseph  Campbell's  handling  of 
these  themes  owes  nothing  either  to  Yeats  or  to 
Lionel  Johnson.  Yeats  found  in  the  ritual  of 
the  Church  a  field  of  symbolism,  Johnson's  voice 
was  that  of  the  ascetic  English  Catholic.  Campbell 
is  unlike  them,  without,  however,  approximating  to 
the  simple,  devotional  spirit  of  Katharine  Tynan. 
His  simplicity  is  his  own,  and  is  best  characterised 
by  that  criticism  which  reproached  him  with  treat- 
ing religion  as  folk-lore.  Every  Shuiler  is  Christ,  I 
met  a  Walking-Man,  and  the  like — what  are  they  but 
skilful  interpretations  of  Christian  beliefs  as  they  are 
coloured  by  the  peasant  mind?  The  poet  has  done 
in  verse  something  analogous  to  the  miracle  plays  of 
Douglas  Hyde.  We  know  how  Hyde's  profound 
knowledge  of  Gaelic,  with  its  oral  and  written  liter- 
ature, has  helped  him  in  this  work  of  reconstruction. 
In  both  Irish  and  English  he  has  captured  and  pre- 
served the  fundamental  traits  of  our  native  genius. 
We  may  therefore  welcome  this  evidence  that  one 
of  our  younger  poets  has  found  a  path  which  leads 
straight  to  the  fountain-head  of  national  tradition. 

A  certain  similarity  between  the  "mountainy 
singer"  and  the  poet  of  Wild  Earth  has  been  sug- 
gested, but  it  would  be  erroneous  to  suppose  that 
his  religious  poems  constitute  the  sole  originality  of 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  279 

Joseph  Campbell.  They  are  certainly  unique,  inas- 
much as  none  of  his  contemporaries  has  followed  or 
preceded  him  in  this  direction.  To  that  extent,  they 
are  the  most  distinguishing  feature  of  his  poetry. 
As  a  delineator  of  peasant  types  and  scenes,  however, 
Campbell  has  a  very  distinctive  manner.  For  proof 
it  is  only  necessary  to  turn  over  the  pages  of  Irishry 
(1914),  his  latest  work.  There  is  probably  less  in 
this  volume  than  in  The  Mountainy  Singer,  which 
the  more  critical  mood  of  later  years  will  prompt  him 
to  excise.  It  is,  to  quote  a  phrase  from  the  preface, 
"a  pageant  of  types,"  drawn  from  every  quarter  of 
Ireland.  A  couple  of  years  earlier,  Mearing  Stones 
(1911),  a  most  unusual  collection  of  prose  sketches, 
recording  a  "tramp  in  Donegal,"  demonstrated  the 
poet's  capacity  for  impressionistic  portraiture.  Not 
only  the  verbal  pictures,  but  the  black  and  white 
designs  with  which  the  book  was  illustrated,  showed 
that  the  eyes  of  an  artist  were  the  complementary 
gift  of  nature  to  a  talent  already  well  endowed. 
Much  has  been  written  of  Synge's  Wicklow  and 
Kerry  notebooks,  but  their  interest  is  that  which 
would  naturally  obtain  concerning  the  raw  mate- 
rial of  the  dramatist's  art.  In  Mearing  Stones  there 
is  certainly  the  material  for  the  poems  and  plays  of 
Campbell,  but  it  is  not  raw  material.  The  sketches 
are  perfect  of  their  kind,  and  were  wisely  published, 
not  as  an  afterthought,  but  as  the  deliberate  ex- 
pression of  a  new  phase  of  the  author's  development. 
Let  us  hope  they  are  an  earnest  of  future  achievement 
in  this  genre. 

Meanwhile  Irishry  has  come  to  give  us  in  verse 
something  akin  to  those  sketches  of  Donegal.  Here 
it  is  not  a  county,  but  a  country,  which  has  been 
drawn  upon  by  an  impressionist  in  words.  With  the 
greater  economy  of  line  imposed  by  his  medium 


280  IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Joseph  Campbell  has  drawn  a  series  of  pictures  whose 
every  stroke  catches  the  eye  of  imagination.  There 
is  power  in  these  outlines  of  typical  figures:  the 
horse-breaker,  the  fiddler,  the  turf-gatherer,  the 
Orangeman,  and  the  unfrocked  priest.  But  he  does 
more  than  indicate  his  figures,  he  endows  them  with 
the  thoughts  and  language  which  constitute  their 
class  characteristics.  When  the  poet's  own  voice  is 
heard  it  is  to  remind  us  of  the  "royal  dead"  who 
peopled  the  land  before  those  familiar  characters 
of  whom  he  writes.  The  decay  of  all  things  is 
recalled  in  The  Turf-Man,  who  carries  in  his  wicker- 
basket  the  last  vestiges  of  the  proud  trees  that 
flourished  in  the  days  of  the  Red  Branch  heroes. 
The  representatives  of  humanity  are  changed,  but, 
behind  the  humble  ploughers,  fiddlers  and  shepherds, 
Campbell  sees  the  kings  and  warriors  of  old.  As  he 
views  the  Irish  scene  he  is  conscious  of  a  continuity 
of  tradition  and  spirit,  which  attaches  the  people  to 
distant  origins  of  which  they  know  perhaps  nothing 
but  what  is  revealed  by  some  remnant  of  the  past, 
surviving  in  a  legend  or  a  phrase.  With  courage  he 
approaches  even  the  most  conventionally  unpoetic 
types,  The  Gombeen  and  The  Pig-Killer,  for  example, 
or  The  Labourer,  that  remarkable  vision  of  a  most 
unpromising  corner  of  Dublin  life.  He  is  quite 
modern,  too,  in  his  selection  of  studies,  being  free 
from  the  obsession  of  the  Celtic,  as  well  as  many 
another  convention.  A  finely  conceived  picture  is 
that  of  The  Old-Age  Pensioner: 

He  sits  over  the  glimmering  coal 
With  ancient  face  and  folded  handsj 
His  eye  glasses  his  quiet  soul, 
He  blinks  and  nods  and  understands. 
In  dew  wetted,  in  tempest  blown, 
A  Lear  at  last  come  to  his  own. 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  281 

In  this  little  poem  he  conveys  all  the  tragedy  of 
existence  for  the  poor  in  Ireland,  with  its  now  rela- 
tively happy  ending.  In  no  country  can  the  sud- 
den recognition  of  one  of  our  social  obligations  have 
meant  so  much  as  to  the  many  Irish  recipients  of  the 
Old  Age  Pension. 

Irishry  observes  the  balance  between  excessive 
idealisation  and  the  sanguinary,  expletive  realism 
recently  so  popular  with  the  more  widely  read  English 
poets.  Campbell  is  realistic  in  that  he  is  perfectly 
natural.  Violent  language  is  rarely  necessary  for  his 
purpose,  and  he  has  done  well  to  avoid  superfluous 
occasions  for  it.  To  realise  the  superiority  of  this 
book  one  has  only  to  compare  it  with  the  more  or 
less  kindred  studies  of  humble  life  published  within 
the  past  few  years  in  England.  All  the  beauty, 
dignity  and  pathos  of  Irish  country  life  are  pre- 
served; the  humour,  the  evil  and  the  ugliness  of  cer- 
tain conditions  are  faithfully  reflected,  but  the  whole 
is  a  well-balanced,  encouraging  achievement.  Life 
drawn  by  the  hand  of  an  artist  and  coloured  by  the 
imagination  of  a  true  poet  is  very  different  from  life 
chalked  out  by  literary  pavement  artists,  and  melo- 
dramatised  by  "best-sellers."  It  is  pleasant  to 
notice  that  Irishry,  with  its  predecessor,  Mearing 
Stones,  has  secured  a  measure  of  attention  and  ap- 
preciation far  beyond  that  enjoyed  by  any  of  the 
author's  earlier  works.  For  some  reason  Joseph 
Campbell  has  had  to  wait  longer  than  others,  not  his 
superiors,  for  recognition.  Perhaps  this  fact  will 
ultimately  be  in  his  favour,  as  he  is  in  no  danger  of 
failing  to  fulfil  the  promise  of  his  first  book.  On 
the  contrary,  he  has  so  greatly -exceeded  the  hopes 
which  might  permissibly  have  been  held  of  his 
youthful  verse  that  he  may  be  glad  it  escaped  undue 
prominence.  Technically  his  work  has  constantly 


282   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

improved.  He  has  radically  altered  his  style  since 
The  Garden  of  the  Bees,  and  is  now  unquestionably 
amongst  the  first  of  the  younger  Irish  poets.  Fortu- 
nately for  him,  the  usual  process,  where  Irish  litera- 
ture is  concerned,  has  been  reversed.  Instead  of 
being  hailed  at  first  as  a  genius,  in  1905,  his  merits 
are  likely  to  be  estimated  by  reference  to  his  mature 
work,  The  Mountainy  Singer  and  Irishry.  The 
factor  which  has  remained  constant,  in  spite  of 
changes  of  form  and  manner,  is  the  content,  which 
brings  together  his  earliest  and  latest  verse.  When 
sympathy,  instinct  and  knowledge  sent  him  into 
Donegal  to  collect  the  Songs  of  Uladh,  he  was  follow- 
ing the  natural  mould  of  his  talent.  The  strength 
and  charm  of  Joseph  Campbell  are  in  his  intimate 
interpretation  of  the  peasant,  as  he  works  and 
dreams,  as  a  man  and  a  symbol. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  indicate  that  the  stream 
of  Anglo-Irish  verse  has  been  renewed  by  fresh  cur- 
rents, whose  force  will  guarantee  a  continuous  flow 
of  poetry  for  some  years  to  come.  The  more  indi- 
vidual talents  have  now  been  mentioned  as  repre- 
senting the  main  tendencies  of  the  present  time,  and 
because  they  illustrate  most  adequately  the  nature 
of  the  new  generation's  contribution  to  our  poetic 
literature.  It  would  be  easy  to  extend  enquiry  to 
as  many  writers  again  as  have  been  considered  in 
this  chapter,  but  the  desire  to  be  comprehensive 
would  lead  us  far  afield  into  the  regions  of  very 
minor  poetry.  Some  names  call  only  for  a  passing 
reference  because  of  their  rapid  disappearance  from 
the  active  list,  others,  because  they  do  not  seem  to 
stand  for  any  important  tendency  not  noticeable 
elsewhere.  Of  the  former  we  have  such  instances 
as  Paul  Gregan,  whose  Sunset  Town  announced  him 
as  the  first  of  A.  E.'s  disciples,  some  fifteen  years 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  283 

ago.  This  book,  bearing  the  imprint  of  the  Hermetic 
Society,  was  an  early  indication  of  the  impulse  given 
to  a  second  generation  of  poets  by  the  Theosophical 
Movement,  as  it  ultimately  established  itself  in 
Dublin.  Gregan,  however,  withdrew  from  public 
notice,  and  his  verse  remains  isolated,  like  that  of 
Thomas  Boyd,  a  young  writer  who  was  instantly 
recognised  as  a  poet  of  considerable  charm,  when  his 
Poems  appeared  in  1906.  It  is  a  pity  that  he,  too, 
depends  solely  upon  the  anthologists  to  save  from 
oblivion  some  beautiful  verses,  the  measure  of  a  great 
loss. 

James  H.  Cousins  and  Thomas  MacDonagh 
belong  to  another  category.  Both  have  several 
volumes  of  verse  to  their  credit,  and  are  favourably 
known  to  the  general  public.  Strictly  speaking  the 
former  should  not  be  counted  amongst  the  poets  of 
the  younger  generation,  as  his  first  book,  Ben  Mad- 
ighan  and  other  Poems,  was  contemporaneous  with 
Homeward:  Songs  by  the  Way.  But  that  volume  and 
its  immediate  successors,  in  the  purely  imitative, 
eighteenth-century  manner,  did  not  bring  the  author 
the  success  he  now  enjoys,  which  dates  approximately 
from  the  same  period  as  saw  the  arrival  of  his  younger 
contemporaries.  He  was  engaged  in  the  initial 
enterprise  which  led  to  the  creation  of  the  Irish 
National  Theatre,  and  owes  his  reputation  to  the 
work  he  has  written  under  the  inspiration  of  Irish 
legend.  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  book  which  inau- 
gurated his  later  and  more  successful  phase,  The 
Quest,  was  published  in  1906,  after  the  Dramatic 
Movement  had  fully  expanded.  The  most  interest- 
ing pages  are  those  containing  the  poetic  drama, 
The  Sleep  of  the  King,  whose  production  in  1902  was 
the  point  of  departure  of  the  National  Theatre 
Society.  Since  1906  James  H.  Cousins  has  main- 


284   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

tained  a  good  level  of  workmanship,  without  either 
serious  retrogression  or  remarkable  progress.  He 
uses  the  sonnet  form  with  skill,  and  in  his  latest 
work,  Straight  and  Crooked  (1915),  he  has  preferred 
the  short  lyric  to  those  lengthy  narratives  of  legend 
like  The  Marriage  of  Lir  and  Niav,  The  Going  Forth 
of  Dana  and  Etain  the  Beloved,  which  constitute 
the  bulk  of  his  work.  Whatever  be  his  subject, 
he  writes  with  a  certain  carefulness  and  absence 
of  subtlety,  which  reveal  him  as  following  largely 
the  pre-Revival  tradition  of  Anglo-Irish  poetry. 
Moore,  Aubrey  de  Vere  (and  even  Byron),  are 
the  names  which  friendly  critics  mention  when  in- 
stituting comparisons.  It  is  curious  that  the  in- 
terest in  mysticism  betrayed  by  his  prose  writing 
has  not  appreciably  determined  the  character  of 
his  verse. 

Thomas  MacDonagh  preceded  the  younger  poets 
heretofore  mentioned  by  one  year,  his  Through  the 
Ivory  Gate  having  been  published  in  1903,  but  he  is 
in  every  respect  coeval  with  them.  From  the  first, 
he  showed  himself  strongly  influenced  by  the  Gaelic 
tradition,  and  his  translations  have  been  highly 
praised  by  competent  critics.  If  one  compares  his 
renderings  with  those  of  the  older  writers,  in  cases 
where  the  theme  is  identical,  the  superiority  of  the 
newcomer  is  evident.  His  version  of  The  Fair- 
Haired  Girl  may  be  cited  as  an  example  of  his  power, 
the  more  so,  as  Samuel  Ferguson  has  also  left  us 
his  interpretation  of  the  same  original.  Reference 
has  already  been  made  to  the  weakness  of  Fer- 
guson's adaptations  from  Gaelic.  He  is,  as  a  rule, 
too  conventional  and  "literary"  to  reproduce 
successfully  the  spirit  of  the  Irish  text.  Mac- 
Donagh's  verses  are  peculiarly  fine  in  their  Gaelic 
atmosphere : 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  285 

The  stars  stand  up  in  the  air, 

The  sun  and  the  moon  are  gone, 
The  strand  of  its  waters  is  bare, 

And  her  sway  is  swept  from  the  swan. 

Three  things  through  love  I  see, 

Sorrow  and  sin  and  death — 
And  my  mind  reminding  me 

That  this  doom  I  breathe  with  my  breath 

contrasted  with  Ferguson's: 

The  sun  has  set,  the  stars  are  still, 
The  red  moon  hides  behind  the  hill; 
The  tide  has  left  the  brown  beach  bare, 
The  birds  have  left  the  upper  air. 

I  through  love  have  learned  three  things; 
Sorrow,  sin  and  death  it  brings; 
Yet  day  by  day  my  heart  within 
Dares  shame  and  sorrow,  death  and  sin. 

But  only  detailed  comparison  can  give  an  adequate 
idea  of  the  relative  merits  of  the  two  translations. 
Thomas  MacDonagh  is  evidently  at  his  best  in  such 
work,  for  in  spite  of  occasional  happy  glimpses  of  the 
folk-mind  in  Songs  of  Myself  (1911),  the  volume 
leaves  the  impression  of  not  being  very  distinctive. 
The  collected  edition,  Lyrical  Poems,  published  in 
1913,  contains  all  that  the  author  would  wish  re- 
membered of  his  four  books. 

A  species  of  premonition  seems  to  have  prompted 
the  publication  of  this  book,  for  it  was  destined  to 
be  the  last  work  of  MacDonagh's  to  be  issued  dur- 
ing his  lifetime.  He  was  executed  in  Dublin  as  one 
of  the  leaders  of  the  Irish  rebellion  of  April,  1916, 
closing  his  career  in  the  midst  of  such  a  tragedy  as 
inspired  his  play,  When  the  Dawn  is  Come  (1908),  and 
many  of  his  finest  poems.  In  the  verses  entitled  Of  a 
Poet  Captain,  for  example,  he  wrote  his  own  epitaph. 


286   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

As  befits  a  teacher  of  literature,  and  the  author  of  a 
treatise  on  metrics,  MacDonagh's  work  shows  him 
in  complete  control  of  his  medium;  he  is  rarely 
faulty  or  obscure.  The  best  application  of  his  tal- 
ent was  in  the  interpretation  of  Gaelic  poetry,  where 
his  translations  were  marked  by  great  metrical  skill 
coupled  with  a  passionate  sense  of  nationality. 

Another  translator  of  distinction  is  Alfred  Perceval 
Graves,  whose  Irish  Poems  (1908)  collected  into  two 
volumes  the  verses  of  many  years.  He  contributed 
in  1889  to  Lays  and  Lyrics  of  the  Pan-Celtic  Society, 
but  even  before  that  time  he  had  made  a  name  as  a 
writer  of  songs.  A  volume  of  mainly  reprinted 
pieces,  Father  O'Flynn  and  other  Irish  Lyrics,  was 
issued  the  same  year,  deriving  its  title  from  the  song 
which  has  made  the  author  universally  famous. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  by  his  services  to  Irish 
music  that  A.  P.  Graves  has  established  his  reputa- 
tion in  a  very  special  field  of  the  Revival,  rather 
than  by  his  purely  poetical  labours.  These,  how- 
ever, are  not  to  be  dismissed  as  negligible,  and  were 
it  not  that  the  song-writer  has  completely  over- 
shadowed the  poet,  we  might  have  placed  him  beside 
his  friends  and  contemporaries,  George  Sigerson  and 
Douglas  Hyde,  with  whom,  as  a  translator,  he  pre- 
sents many  analogies.  He  resembles  Samuel  Fer- 
guson perhaps  more  than  any  other  writer,  by  reason 
of  the  variety  of  his  interest  in  the  renaissance  of 
Irish  culture.  Music,  folk-lore  and  country-songs  have 
found  in  him  a  sympathetic  student  and  interpreter, 
as  his  Irish  Literary  and  Musical  Studies  (1913) 
recently  testified.  His  editorial  activities  on  behalf 
of  Anglo-Irish  literature  have  been  numerous,  from 
the  time  of  his  Purcell  Papers  and  Songs  of  Irish 
Wit  and  Humour,  in  the  Eighties,  down  to  the  re- 
cently inaugurated  "Every  Irishman's  Library,"  to 


POETS  OF  YOUNGER  GENERATION  287 

which  he  has  also  given  a  useful  anthology  of  Irish 
poetry.  He  has  played  an  important  part  in  the 
building  up  of  the  Irish  Literary  Society,  of  which 
he  was  honorary  secretary,  and  is  now  one  of  the 
vice-presidents.  For  all  these  evidences  of  active 
sympathy  and  participation,  as  well  as  for  his  more 
personal  contributions  to  the  poetic  Revival,  Alfred 
Perceval  Graves  is  entitled  to  the  serious  attention 
of  those  interested  in  the  Irish  Literary  Movement. 

Of  the  most  recent  poets  who  have  attracted  atten- 
tion it  is  difficult  to  speak  or  to  prophesy,  until  they 
have  given  us  more  than  the  single  volume  of  their 
debut  upon  which  to  base  our  judgment.  In  the 
case  of  Joseph  Plunkett,  this  hope  has  been  dramati- 
cally extinguished  by  his  death  in  the  tragic  com- 
pany of  Thomas  MacDonagh  and  Padraic  Pearse, 
another  fine  young  talent  of  which  Ireland  is  now 
intellectually  the  poorer.  While  Pearse's  work  was 
in  Gaelic,  and,  therefore,  outside  the  scope  of  the 
present  history,  Plunkett's  was  a  part  of  the  revival 
of  Anglo-Irish  literature.  He  had  published  only 
one  book  of  verse,  The  Circle  and  the  Sword,  which 
appeared  in  1911,  and  was  favourably  received  by 
many  who  caught  in  it  an  echo  of  that  Catholic 
mysticism  associated  with  Francis  Thompson  and 
the  English  poets  of  Catholicism,  rather  than  with 
their  Irish  contemporaries.  Irish  mysticism  and 
Irish  Catholicism,  as  we  have  already  seen,  are  very 
differently  manifested  in  the  writers  of  Ireland's 
Renaissance.  Plunkett  died  so  young  that  we  can- 
not do  more  than  admit  the  undeniable  promise  of 
the  brief  record  which  has  been  left.  A  volume  of 
his  contributions  to  The  Irish  Review  (1911-1914) 
would  help  to  substantiate  the  claims  of  his  first 
book. 

The  promise  of  a  new  talent  was  revealed  by  Lord 


288   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Dunsany  in  a  lecture  to  the  National  Literary 
Society  on  Francis  Ledwidge,  whose  Songs  from 
the  Fields  (1915)  shortly  afterwards  enabled  the 
public  to  confirm  the  lecturer's  judgment.  A  fresh 
flowering  of  Irish  poetry  is  visible  in  these  simple 
verses,  whose  most  noticeable  feature  is  their  rich- 
ness of  imagery,  promising  much  for  the  young 
poet's  future  development.  The  Irish  Eclogues  of 
Edward  E.  Lysaght,  and  The  Mount  of  Transfigura- 
tion^ by  Darrell  Figgis,  both  introduced  in  1915  new 
names  in  the  field  of  Anglo-Irish  poetry.  The  latter 
author  had  already  found  a  public  in  England  for 
prose  and  verse  of  another  tradition,  but  these  first 
fruits  of  his  return  to  his  native  soil  indicated  that 
he  had  found  a  truer  vein  of  inspiration  than  was 
evident  in  the  works  of  his  London  apprenticeship. 
Darrell  Figgis  shows  himself  a  disciple  of  the  mystic 
faith  of  A.  E.,  to  whom  The  Mount  of  Transfigura- 
tion is  fittingly  dedicated.  Edward  E.  Lysaght,  on 
the  other  hand,  writes  of  the  countryside  as  a  farmer 
with  a  strong  sense  of  bucolic  poetry,  more  inter- 
ested in  the  tangible  charm  of  elemental  facts  than 
in  the  mysterious  breath  of  earth. 

Both  the  war  in  Europe  and  the  rebellion  at  home 
will  have  depleted  the  ranks  of  our  writers,  actual 
and  potential.  The  holocaust  of  youthful  energies 
will  not  leave  Ireland  untouched.  We  must  hope, 
however,  that  the  process  of  recuperation  will  be  no 
more  difficult  for  us  than  for  the  other  nations  simi- 
larly exhausted  by  the  cataclysm  of  war  which  has 
swept  down  upon  the  world.  Ireland  is  still  rich 
in  poetic  wealth  and  she  shall  not  lack  instruments 
for  its  exploitation. 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT:  FIRST  PHASE 

THE     IRISH     LITERARY    THEATRE  I      EDWARD     MARTYN 
AND    GEORGE    MOORE 


f  £  ""\HE  story  of  the  Dramatic  Movement  in 
$  Ireland  has  been  so  frequently  told,  its 
!|  protagonists  and  their  works  have  been 
•^^  the  subject  of  so  much  commentary, 
that  a  certain  hesitation  is  natural  in  adding  to  the 
criticism  which  has  accumulated  about  the  subject. 
The  creation  of  an  Irish  National  Theatre  is  the 
most  familiar  and  most  popular  achievement  of  the 
Revival.  The  dramatists  have,  consequently,  ob- 
tained a  degree  of  attention  denied  to  the  poets  and 
novelists.  A  critical  bibliography  of  Anglo-Irish 
literature  will  show  dozens  of  books  and  articles 
dealing  with  the  drama,  for  one  relative  to  poetry 
or  fiction.  Yet,  in  all  that  has  been  written,  there 
has  been  a  failure  to  bring  out  the  important  fact 
that  the  Dramatic  Movement  falls  into  two  distinct 
phases,  and  that  those  now  most  conspicuously  asso- 
ciated with  its  later  developments  were  not  the  orig- 
inators of  the  enterprise  to  which  it  owes  its  greatest 
success.  Reserving  this  latter  point  until  we  come 
to  discuss  the  Irish  National  Theatre,  to  whose 
history  it  belongs,  we  shall  consider  the  first  phase 
of  the  dramatic  renascence.  With  the  objects  and 
results  of  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre  before  us,  the 

289 


290   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

divergence  between  the  original  and  the  subsequent 
undertaking  will  be  evident. 

The  production  of  W.  B.  Yeats's  Land  of  the  Hear? s 
Desire  at  the  Avenue  Theatre,  London,  in  1894 
doubtless  awakened  in  him  the  definite  ambition  of 
giving  Ireland  a  theatre  where  uncommercial  drama 
might  be  fostered.  He  knew  that  for  such  plays  as 
he  could  write  there  was  no  opening  in  London, 
except  the  Independent  Theatre.  Naturally  it  oc- 
curred to  him  that  the  intellectual  awakening  which 
was  part  of  the  Literary  Revival  in  Ireland  should 
render  possible  in  Dublin  a  small  theatrical  enter- 
prise modelled,  like  The  Independent  Theatre,  upon 
the  Theatre  Libre  and  the  Freie  Buhne.  In  this 
belief  he  was  encouraged  by  his  friend,  Edward 
Martyn,  who,  as  a  devoted  Ibsenite,  was  neces- 
sarily obliged  to  put  his  faith  in  such  theatres,  there 
being  at  that  time  not  the  slightest  hope  of  seeing 
intelligent  plays  in  the  ordinary  profiteering  play- 
houses. Martyn  and  Yeats  succeeded  in  interesting 
George  Moore  in  their  project,  for  he,  too,  was  con- 
vinced that  commercialism  had  made  drama  a 
literary  impossibility  in  London.  He  was  all  the 
more  disposed  to  support  a  theatre  in  Dublin  as  his 
confidence  in  the  Independent  Theatre  had  been 
lost.  He  felt  that  perhaps  nowhere  could  the  cir- 
cumstances be  more  favourable  to  a  repetition  of 
Antoine's  experiment  than  in  Dublin,  which  had  de- 
veloped an  artistic  conscience,  as  a  result  of  the 
propaganda  of  the  Revival.  In  due  course  Lady 
Gregory,  A.  E.,  John  Eglinton  and  other  writers 
were  secured  as  active  supporters,  a  list  of  guaran- 
tors was  published,  and,  under  the  auspices  of  the 
National  Literary  Society,  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre 
was  established  in  the  year  1899. 

From  the  nature  of  the  conditions  which  brought 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         291 

Yeats,  Martyn  and  Moore  together  for  the  execution 
of  this  purpose  it  is  evident  that  folk-drama  was  not 
one  of  their  preoccupations.  They  were  united 
primarily  in  a  revolt  against  theatrical  conditions  in 
London,  which  rendered  impossible  the  production 
of  plays  whose  character  did  not  ensure  immediate 
commercial  success.  As  all  their  utterances  showed, 
— the  prefaces  of  Moore  to  his  own  and  Martyn's 
plays,  the  articles  in  Beltaine,  the  organ  of  the  Lit- 
erary Theatre, — they  were  consciously  inspired  by 
the  example  of  the  Theatre  Libre  and  its  German 
analogue.  They  thought  of  Ibsen  as  their  master, 
and  it  was  their  avowed  intention  to  do  for  Ireland 
what  he  had  done  for  Norway.  They  certainly  con- 
templated the  creation  of  a  national  theatre,  Yeats, 
particularly,  showing  himself  anxious  that  this 
dramatic  association  in  Ireland  should  distinguish 
itself  from  its  kindred  in  London,  by  its  use  of 
national  legend  as  the  material  of  poetic  drama. 
Martyn  and  Moore  were  more  interested  in  social 
and  psychological  drama,  as  was  natural,  seeing 
that  the  one  was  an  admirer  of  the  Scandinavian 
dramatists,  and  the  other  was  the  author  of  The 
Strike  at  Arlingford,  performed  by  The  Independent 
Theatre  in  1893.  Although  Moore  and  Yeats  col- 
laborated in  Diarmuid  and  Crania,  the  last  produc- 
tion of  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre,  in  1901,  we  may 
notice  in  that  difference  of  emphasis  the  fundamental 
cause  of  the  ultimate  scission  in  the  Movement.  It 
is  significant  that  this  play,  which  might  have  ap- 
peared to  symbolise  a  reconciliation  of  literary  ideals, 
marked,  in  reality,  the  disruption  of  the  associa- 
tion. 

Yeats's  desire  for  poetic  drama  drawn  from  Irish 
sources  did  not  necessarily  conflict  with  the  more 
cosmopolitan  ideas  of  Moore  and  Martyn.  At  the 


292    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

first  performance  of  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre  The 
Countess  Kathleen  wholly  occupied  the  programme 
which  it  shared,  at  subsequent  performances,  with 
Martyn's  Heather  Field.  Later  on  Alice  Milligan's 
heroic  play,  The  Last  Feast  of  the  Fianna,  was  pro- 
duced with  some  success.  But  from  legend  to  folk- 
lore was  but  a  step  with  Yeats,  and  once  that  step 
was  taken  the  peasant  play  became  a  mere  question 
of  time.  Consequently  there  could  be  no  continuity 
of  ideas  between  the  originators  of  the  Movement. 
Their  purpose  was  identical,  but  the  bias  of  Martyn 
was  away  from  folk-plays,  while  that  of  Yeats  was 
inevitably  in  their  direction.  As  the  tone  of  the 
Irish  Literary  Theatre  was  that  given  by  Edward 
Martyn  and  George  Moore,  they  are  the  dramatists 
we  must  identify  with  it.  Whatever  be  the  merits 
of  their  work,  it  was,  at  least,  consistent  with  the 
conception  of  national  drama  to  which  they  pro- 
fessed at  the  beginning.  Yeats,  on  the  other  hand, 
found  elsewhere  in  embryo  an  enterprise  more  suit- 
able for  the  realisation  of  the  ideal  he  cherished, 
when  he  dreamed  of  the  creation  of  an  Irish  National 
Theatre.  If  his  efforts  have  resulted  in  a  practical 
triumph  denied  to  Edward  Martyn,  it  must  not  be 
assumed  that  the  latter  has  been  less  faithful  to  the 
original  intention  of  their  co-operation.  We  may 
find,  indeed,  that  while  Martyn's  is  a  case  of  con- 
stancy unrewarded,  Yeats  has  had  to  sacrifice  much 
that  is  essential  in  the  inevitable  compromise  whereby 
theory  and  practise  are  united  in  success. 

EDWARD    MARTYN 

Although  his  name  first  became  known  in  connec- 
tion with  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre,  which  owed  to 
him  its  designation  and  its  material  existence,  Ed- 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         293 

ward  Martyn  was  not  a  novice  in  letters  when  he 
was  suddenly  hailed  as  the  chief  dramatist  of  the 
Revival.  Under  the  pseudonym  of  "Sirius"  he  had 
published  an  extraordinary  satire,  Morgante  the 
Lesser,  in  1890.  Written  in  a  peculiarly  unmodern, 
eighteenth-century  style,  this  book  could  hardly 
count  upon  success  with  the  average  novel-reader, 
but  it  deserves  the  attention  of  the  curious  who  care 
for  the  by-paths  of  contemporary  literature.  Rabe- 
lais and  Swift  were  obviously  the  masters  whom 
Martyn  followed  in  an  attempt  to  satirise  the 
growth  of  scientific  materialism.  Morgante,  the 
symbolical  giant  of  the  narrative,  is  truly  a  Gar- 
gantuan figure,  the  story  of  his  birth  and  exploits 
being  as  nearly  akin  to  that  of  his  great  prototype 
as  nineteenth-century  modesty  permits  the  historian 
to  make  it.  Needless  to  say,  the  author  does  not 
approach  any  nearer  to  the  Rabelaisian  manner 
than  is  implied  in  the  statement  that  the  plan  of 
Morgante's  early  years  follows  that  of  Gargantua's. 
So  far  as  the  actual  manner  of  the  humour  is  con- 
cerned one  is  reminded  rather  of  Gulliver's  Travels. 
The  creation  of  Morgante  and  the  invention  of  his 
followers,  the  Enterists,  provide  opportunities  for  the 
satirical  illustration  of  various  aspects  of  modern 
society.  Religion,  education,  science,  and  even  the 
passing  whims  of  the  intellectually  unemployed,  all 
contribute  to  the  sum  of  absurdities  composing  the 
narrative. 

Edward  Martyn  shows  a  power  of  bitter,  grotesque 
imagination  which  is  all  the  more  remarkable  because 
it  is  sustained  throughout  a  lengthy  volume.  There 
is  a  hint  of  his  subsequent  capacity  for  tenacious 
fidelity  to  ideas,  at  the  risk  of  isolation,  in  this  first 
book.  To  the  writing  of  such  a  work,  remote  from 
anything  in  contemporary  literature,  and  foredoomed 


294   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

to  inevitable  comparison  with  the  two  mightiest 
satires  outside  antiquity,  there  went  obviously 
unusual  determination.  We  shall  find  this  to  be  the 
most  admirable  quality  in  the  author,  his  complete 
indifference  to  immediate  popularity.  He  seems  to 
consider  literature,  not  as  a  bid  for  success,  but  sim- 
ply as  the  expression  of  a  personal  impulse.  He 
must  have  known  that  Morgante  the  Lesser  would 
defy  the  casual  reader,  he  must  have  felt  how  unique 
were  its  literary  affiliations,  yet,  overshadowed  by 
Rabelais  and  Swift,  he  wrote  with  a  vigour  and  seri- 
ousness which  has  given  us  one  of  the  strangest 
pieces  of  imaginative  invective  in  recent  times.  The 
height  of  the  only  standards  by  which  his  book  could 
be  judged  must  be  counted  as  the  cause  of  its  obscu- 
rity. But  his  dramas  do  not  continue  the  mood  which 
inspired  Morgante,  unless  we  count  the  trifle  Romulus 
and  Remus  (1907),  an  extravaganza  brutally  ridicul- 
ing the  composition  of  folk-drama,  in  a  manner 
recalling  faintly  the  author's  first  book.  Satire  is 
not  his  strong  point,  he  lacks  the  concentration  and 
lightness  of  touch  which  we  demand  nowadays  from 
the  satirist.  The  elaborate  and  leisurely  concep- 
tions of  an  earlier  age,  marvellously  reproduced  in 
Morgante,  are  not  likely  to  find  general  apprecia- 
tion, when  related  to  our  own  time.  In  the  theatre, 
expecially,  where  literary  economy  is  essential, 
Edward  Martyn  was  wise  to  strike  out  in  another 
direction. 

At  the  second  performance  of  the  Irish  Literary 
Theatre,  on  the  9th  of  May,  1899,  Edward  Martyn's 
play,  The  Heather  Field,  was  produced.  Inadequate 
acting,  and  an  unsuitable  setting  for  poetic  drama, 
had  militated  seriously  against  the  success  of  The 
Countess  Kathleen,  with  which  the  Theatre  had  opened 
the  previous  evening.  The  Heather  Field,  on  the 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         295 

contrary,  was  so  successful  as  to  cause  a  revision  of 
the  unfavourable  opinions  expressed  by  the  critics 
on  its  appearance  in  book  form,  early  in  the  year 
1899.  Recollecting  the  state  of  dramatic  criticism, 
which  at  that  time  had  not  yet  recovered  from  the 
shock  of  Ibsen,  and  was  still  in  the  distrustful,  if 
not  hysterical,  stage,  we  need  not  be  surprised  that 
Edward  Martyn  found  little  favour.  The  Heather 
Field  belonged  too  obviously  to  the  school  of  Ibsen 
to  be  appreciated  in  London.  Had  it  contained  any 
of  those  incidents  which  excited  the  hysteria  of  the 
critics  of  Ghosts,  it  might  have  counted  upon  the 
oppositional  minority  for  support.  The  patrons  of 
"advanced  drama"  must,  on  principle,  have  cham- 
pioned any  dramatist  who  defied  the  Censor.  Mar- 
tyn, unfortunately,  did  not  adopt  this  easy  road  to 
the  limited  fame  of  the  literary  martyr.  His  plays 
were  as  surely  devoid  of  offence,  as  they  were  unsus- 
ceptible of  commercial  success.  He  had,  with  ap- 
parent perverseness,  all  the  defects  of  the  uncom- 
mercial playwright,  without  any  of  the  correspond- 
ing advantages  which  delicate  scenes,  or  daring 
innovations,  confer  with  certain  select  audiences. 

In  Dublin,  where  the  sophistications  of  dramatic 
reform  controversies  were  ignored,  The  Heather  Field 
pleased  every  class  of  spectator.  The  initiated  were 
interested  in  this  application  of  Ibsen's  methods  to 
Irish  conditions,  the  popular  audiences  were  carried 
away  by  the  force  of  a  conflict  which  was  easily 
understood.  The  symbolic  value  of  Garden  Tyrrell's 
struggle  to  retain  the  heather  field  had  no  need  of 
explanation  in  a  country  where  devotion  to  ideals, 
at  the  cost  of  ruin  and  failure,  has  long  been  a  familiar 
phenomenon.  There  is  fine  drama  in  this  story  of 
Garden  Tyrrell,  who  is  driven  insane  by  the  conflict 
of  reality,  as  personified  in  his  wife  and  her  matter- 


296   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

of-fact  friends,  with  the  ideal,  as  symbolised  by  the 
wild  field  on  his  estate,  to  whose  reclamation  he 
would  sacrifice  everything.  The  heather  field,  in 
which  he  hears  the  voices  that  whisper  of  youth  and 
happiness,  was  instantly  recognised  as  part  of  that 
realm  of  dreams  where  man  may  satisfy  the  longings 
of  the  spirit.  It  is  related  that — characteristically 
— English  playgoers  sympathised  with  the  doctors 
who  pronounced  Garden  mad,  whereas  in  Ireland 
the  audience  hissed  the  doctors  and  sided  with  the 
idealist  against  his  wife.  As  George  Moore  has 
pointed  out,  the  great  triumph  of  Martyn's  por- 
trayal of  Garden  is  that  he  makes  him  sympathetic, 
"although  all  right  and  good  sense  are  on  the  wife's 
side." 

Maeve,  which  was  published  in  the  same  volume 
as  the  preceding  play,  met  with  an  equally  good 
reception,  when  performed  during  the  second  sea- 
son of  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre,  in  1901.  If  this 
"psychological  drama  in  two  acts"  has  not  been 
played  in  England,  Germany  and  the  United  States, 
like  its  predecessor,  the  reason  must  not  be  sought 
in  any  inferiority  of  workmanship.  In  a  sense, 
Maeve  corresponds  more  exactly  to  the  type  of  play 
for  which  the  author  wished  to  found  an  Irish  Lit- 
erary Theatre,  than  The  Heather  Field.  It  is  more 
peculiarly  Irish  in  its  atmosphere  than  the  latter, 
and  on  that  account  precisely,  its  interest  for  the 
outside  world  may  be  slighter.  Once  again  the 
motive  is  the  clash  of  the  real  and  the  ideal,  or  as 
W.  B.  Yeats  suggested,  "Ireland's  choice  between 
English  materialism  and  her  own  natural  idealism." 
There  is  an  entirely  original  use  of  fairy  lore  and 
legend  in  Maeve,  found  uniquely  in  the  work  of 
Edward  Martyn.  He  shows  how  the  old  vagrant 
woman,  Peg  Inerny,  who  is  transformed  in  the  world 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         297 

of  imagination  into  a  queen  of  faery,  fascinates  the 
dreamy  young  girl,  Maeve  O'Heynes,  by  appealing 
to  the  latter's  faith  in  the  legendary  traditions  of  the 
countryside.  Maeve,  who  is  about  to  marry  a 
young  Englishman  of  wealth,  pays  a  last  visit  to 
the  mountains  where  her  visions  have  brought  her 
into  communion  with  the  heroic  figures  of  legend. 
Like  Peg  Inerny,  who  believes  herself  to  be  the 
great  Queen  Maeve  of  Red  Branch  history,  Maeve 
is  eager  to  enter  the  faery  regions,  where  her  super- 
human lover  awaits  her,  and  both  may  transcend 
the  sordidness  of  their  earthly  existence.  The  girl 
longs  to  escape  the  poverty-stricken  gentility  of  her 
father's  home  and  the  marriage  which  is  to  rehabili- 
tate it;  the  old  woman  wants  to  leave  beggary 
behind  her.  They  go  off  in  the  cold  night  to  their 
visions,  and  Maeve  returning,  sits  at  the  open  win- 
dow in  trance-like  ecstasy,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the 
visitors  from  Beyond.  They  come  to  her,  and  as 
they  fade  out  of  sight,  Maeve's  spirit  leaves  her 
body  to  accompany  them  to  the  land  of  Tir- 
nan-Oge. 

Thus,  by  the  adaptation  to  local  circumstances  of 
the  technique  then  associated  with  the  great  Scan- 
dinavian dramatist,  Edward  Martyn  was  able  to 
give  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre  two  dramas  of  the 
kind  which  he  desired  to  foster  in  Ireland.  The 
Heather  Field  and  Maeve  could  not  have  been  written 
but  for  The  Wild  Duck  and  The  Lady  from  the  Sea; 
their  ancestry  is  evident,  but  they  are  not  imitations. 
They  merely  revealed  at  an  early  date  that  influ- 
ence which  has  since  profoundly  modified  the  best 
modern  drama. 

George  Moore  has  related,  with  his  usual  love  of 
impressive  detail,  the  fate  of  Edward  Martyn's  Tale 
of  a  Town,  which  the  latter  kindly  allowed  him  to 


298    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

rewrite  for  production  in  1900  as  The  Bending  of  the 
Bough.  Two  years  later  the  original  play,  together 
with  An  Enchanted  Sea,  was  published  by  Standish 
O'Grady.  While  the  peculiar  claims  of  Morgante 
the  Lesser  have  been  admitted,  we  have  already  sug- 
gested that  satire  is  not  the  best  exercise  of  the 
author's  talent.  In  that  elaborate  romance,  exag- 
geration and  prolixity  were  part  of  the  archaic  con- 
vention of  the  form,  but  the  effects  secured  by 
them  are  denied  to  Edward  Martyn  in  the  theatre. 
With  all  his  efforts  to  prune  his  material,  he  fails  to 
effect  the  necessary  sharpening  of  the  points  he 
wishes  to  make.  The  Tale  of  a  Town  is  actually  a 
very  legitimate  satire  on  Irish  municipal  life,  but  the 
material  has  not  been  adapted  to  the  stage.  There 
is  such  exuberant  caricature  as  to  recall  the  sym- 
bolical figures  of  Morgante.  The  characters  are 
drawn  with  strokes  so  broad  that  one  cannot  believe 
that  they  even  believe  in  themselves.  The  subject 
is  an  excellent  one,  and  in  first  approaching  it, 
Edward  Martyn  pointed  the  way  to  a  rich  field, 
which  has  never  been  properly  exploited  by  the 
Irish  dramatists.  The  Bending  of  the  Bough  makes 
a  convincing  picture  of  that  nameless,  but  familiar, 
municipality,  whose  leader,  Jasper  Dean,  ultimately 
abandons  the  corporation  whose  private  ambitions 
he  had  miraculously  succeeded  in  subordinating  to 
the  general  welfare.  George  Moore  retains  the  first 
act  of  the  original  almost  intact,  but  the  remaining 
acts  are  radically  different.  The  motives  of  Dean's 
sudden  apostasy  are  more  tangible,  owing  to  the 
greater  insight  displayed  by  Moore  in  the  character- 
isation of  Millicent  Fell,  whose  family,  social  and 
personal  influence  are  the  cause  of  the  betrayal. 
The  exaggerations  of  the  first  version  have  disap- 
peared, and  the  dialogue  is  well  written,  making  the 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         299 

play  one  of  the  best  in  the  repertory  of  the  Irish 
Dramatic  Movement. 

The  Enchanted  Sea  is  measurably  superior  to  its 
companion  play,  and  justifies  the  publication  of  the 
volume  in  1902.  Here  the  author  returns  to  his  own 
special  subject,  the  expression  of  Irish  drama  in 
terms  as  universal  as  those  of  Ibsen.  Mrs.  Font 
desires  to  get  rid  of  her  nephew  Guy,  so  that  the 
estate  which  he  has  inherited  from  her  late  husband 
may  revert  to  her  daughter,  Agnes.  This  parvenu 
peasant  woman  imagines  that  the  wealth  of  Agnes 
would  then  be  sufficient  to  tempt  Guy's  friend,  Lord 
Mask,  to  marry  her.  Her  purpose  regarding  her 
nephew  is  facilitated  by  the  general  belief  that  Guy 
is  one  of  "the  sea  people."  The  boy  is  strangely 
drawn  to  the  sea,  and  is  under  the  suggestion  of  the 
peasantry,  who  credit  him  with  belonging  there. 
Mrs.  Font  lures  the  youth  away  to  the  cave  on  the 
shore  where  he  used  to  visit  the  sea  fairies.  Her 
return  without  him  excites  suspicion,  but  before  she 
can  be  arrested  she  learns  the  defeat  of  her  plans. 
Lord  Mask  is  drowned  while  seeking,  in  a  fit  of 
madness,  to  rejoin  his  friend,  and  all  that  is  left  for 
her  is  suicide.  The  play  recalls  Maeve,  as  both 
recall,  though  very  differently,  The  Lady  from  the 
Sea.  In  mere  outline  there  is  the  typically  melo- 
dramatic element  which  Ibsen  did  not  disdain,  but 
the  content  of  the  drama  is  similarly  suggestive  of 
something  more  than  those  "pure  accidents,"  de- 
nounced by  Bernard  Shaw  as  merely  "anecdotic," 
and  not  an  essential  part  of  "the  quintessence  of 
Ibsenism."  The  call  of  the  sea  is  heard  throughout 
the  play,  and  the  general  atmosphere  of  conflicting 
aims  and  ideals,  of  superstition  and  poetry,  raises  it 
above  the  level  of  melodrama.  If  certain  faults  of 
execution  impair  the  conception,  the  latter  is,  never- 


300   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

theless,  powerful.  In  spite  of  defects,  due  largely 
to  the  practical  obstacles  which  have  stood  in  the 
way  of  the  author's  technical  development,  The 
Enchanted  Sea  is  a  work  of  distinction. 

The  Place  Hunters  (1902)  is  a  further  attempt  at 
the  species  of  satire  we  have  seen  in  The  Tale  of  a 
Town.  Compressed  within  the  space  of  one  act,  and 
treated  in  terms  of  farcical  comedy,  it  is  perhaps 
a  more  successful  tilt  at  the  windmills  of  political 
jobbery  in  Ireland.  This  comedy  has  more  in  com- 
mon with  the  author's  latest  play,  The  Dream  Physi- 
cian (1914),  than  with  its  immediate  successor, 
Grange colman  (1912).  The  comic  relief  of  the  former, 
in  the  person  of  George  Augustus  Moon,  an  old 
journalist,  was  created  in  that  spirit  of  broad  cari- 
cature which  always — though  often  unintentionally 
— accompanies  Edward  Martyn's  satire.  The  intro- 
duction of  the  element  of  comedy,  in  this  case,  was 
an  innovation,  heretofore  unknown  in  the  dramatist's 
work.  His  satire  has  usually  been  serious  in  inten- 
tion whereas  this  caricatural  portrait  of  a  prominent 
figure  in  the  story  of  the  Dramatic  Revival  was  pure 
farce.  It  was  the  first  of  his  non-satirical  plays  to  be 
relieved  by  any  evidence  of  the  comic  spirit.  The 
reproach  of  being  gloomy  and  pessimistic  had,  in 
consequence,  been  frequently  made  against  the  Irish 
disciple  of  Ibsen.  The  accusation  is  neither  more 
nor  less  true  in  his  case  than  in  that  of  his  master. 

The  years  between  1902  and  1912,  when  Martyn's 
last  published  play  appeared,  did  not  witness  any 
concession  on  his  part  to  the  demand  for  "cheerful" 
plays.  If  anything,  Grangecolman  seems  most  nearly 
to  justify  the  criticism  in  question.  There  was  a 
breath  of  poetry  and  a  strain  of  idealism  animating 
The  Heather  Field,  Maeve  and  The  Enchanted  Sea 
which  disposed  of  the  contention  that  Edward 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         301 

Martyn's  work  was  "morbid,"  to  use  the  favourite 
term  of  those  who  criticise  the  school  of  drama  to^ 
which  he  belongs.  Grangecolman,  however,  is  with- 
out any  such  quality  to  brighten  its  colourless  realism. 
The  plot  centres  about  the  effort  of  Katherine  Devlin 
to  free  her  father  from  his  infatuation  for  the  young 
amanuensis,  Clare  Farquhar,  whom  she  herself  intro- 
duced into  the  home,  to  escape  the  duties  of  secre- 
taryship. Restless  and  disappointed,  Katherine  is 
jealous  of  the  happiness  which  has  come  to  her  father 
in  the  companionship  of  a  sympathetic  woman. 
Having  failed,  with  all  her  freedom,  to  find  satisfac- 
tion in  the  emancipated  ideas  for  which  she  aban- 
doned her  home,  she  is  anxious  to  destroy  what  she 
has  neither  secured  for  herself  nor  given  to  others. 
When  all  means  have  proved  fruitless,  she  decides 
to  appeal  to  superstition  by  impersonating  the  ghost 
believed  by  her  father  to  haunt  Grangecolman.  She 
does  so  with  all  the  more  readiness  as  she  sees  in  the 
ruse  a  means  of  disturbing  the  quiet  contentment  of 
the  household  and  obtaining  for  herself  the  only 
tranquillity  possible — death.  She  counts  on  Clare 
Farquhar  to  expose  the  ghostly  superstition  in  the 
most  tragically  effective  manner.  Nor  is  she  mis- 
taken, for  Clare  fires  a  revolver  at  the  white  figure 
which  has  no  terrors  for  her,  thereby  ending  her  own 
dream  of  happiness,  as  well  as  Katherine's  life. 

Rosmersholm  was  immediately  suggested  to  the 
critics  by  this  play,  but,  it  may  fairly  be  asked,  what 
but  the  slightest  points  of  identity  exist  between  the 
two  ?  Katherine  Devlin  is  rather  the  type  of  woman 
analysed  by  Ibsen  in  Hedda  Gabler,  the  dissatisfied, 
vaguely  ambitious  product  of  the  "emancipation" 
and  "unrest"  of  modern  feminism.  Clare  Farquhar, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  in  no  way  related  to  Rebecca 
West,  who  should  be  her  prototype.  Her  power  and 


302   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

influence  are  essentially  those  of  the  "womanly 
woman,"  abhorred  by  Ibsen,  if  we  are  to  believe 
Bernard  Shaw.  She  is  certainly  incapable  of  playing 
the  part  in  Colman's  life  which  Rebecca  played  in 
the  career  of  Rosmer.  The  fact  is,  Edward  Martyn 
has  been  too  freely  credited  with  Ibsenism.  As  has 
been  admitted  earlier  in  this  chapter,  the  author  of 
The  Heather  Field  began  frankly  as  an  admirer  of  the 
Scandinavian  dramatist,  and,  like  his  fellow-workers 
in  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre,  he  saw  in  the  history 
of  the  Norwegian  drama  an  example  for  Ireland. 
His  own  plays  showed  the  influence  of  Ibsen  more 
markedly  than  those  of  his  colleagues,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  the  form  of  dramatic  art  in  which  he  was 
chiefly  interested  has  been  largely  created,  and  most 
certainly  revolutionised,  by  the  great  Scandinavian 
master.  It  would  be  just  as  accurate  to  say  that 
Edward  Martyn  is  a  disciple  of  Strindberg,  with 
whose  misogyny  his  work  presents  many  parallels, 
and  for  whom  he  has  expressed  his  admiration.  He 
is  an  Ibsenite  precisely  in  so  far  as  he  writes  in 
accordance  with  the  conventions  which  supplanted 
the  old,  well-made  play  of  the  pre-Ibsen  era.  In 
company  with  all  the  modern  dramatists  who  were 
in  revolt  at  that  time  against  the  conventional  and 
commercial  drama,  he  naturally  turned  to  Russia 
and  Northern  Europe  for  his  models.  George  Moore 
and  he  were  agreed  as  to  what  direction  the  new 
movement  in  Ireland  should  take,  Yeats  was  but 
partly  in  agreement  with  them.  Consequently  he 
did  not  write  to  foster  the  new  drama  as  understood 
by  Martyn,  who  soon  found  himself  alone,  owing  to 
the  dissolution  of  the  original  partnership.  Had 
Moore  written  as  extensively,  he  would  have  ap- 
proximated to  the  ideal  of  Martyn  rather  than  of 
Yeats. 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         303 

It  is  easy  to  understand  now  why  Edward  Mar- 
tyn's  Ibsenism  has  been  exaggerated.  Circumstances 
were  against  him,  and  he  was  left  the  solitary  expcF 
nent  of  the  drama  which  he  knew  to  be  the  next  phase 
in  the  evolution  of  the  English  theatre.  He  wanted 
Ireland  to  start  at  once  in  the  direction  in  which  the 
future  lay,  he  wanted  Irish  drama  to  be  "modern," 
as  the  word  was  then  understood.  Not  that  he 
advocated  the  "talking"  play,  which  Ibsen's  most 
vociferous  champion  in  England  erroneously  iden- 
tified as  the  condition  precedent  of  progress  in  the 
art  of  the  theatre.  His  fundamental  dissimilarity 
from  Ibsen  is  most  evident  in  his  avoidance  of  those 
problems  which  give  its  raison  d'etre  to  the  "drama 
of  ideas."  The  mass  of  philosophic  doctrine  and 
social  criticism  extracted  by  Shaw  in  The  Quin- 
tessence of  Ibsenism  is  sufficient  to  show  how  slight 
is  the  relationship  between  The  Heather  Field  and 
The  Wild  Duck.  Edward  Martyn  does  not  discuss 
problems  or  launch  theories,  he  is  simply  content  to 
depict  a  milieu,  give  its  atmosphere  and  allow  the 
circumstances  to  suggest  ideas  to  the  intelligent 
spectator.  He  is  the  only  Irish  writer  for  the  theatre 
who  has  sensed  the  dramatic  possibilities  of  con- 
temporary life  in  Ireland  outside  the  peasantry.  His 
material  is  more  slender  and  more  difficult  of  exploi- 
tation than  that  of  his  successors,  the  folk-dramatists, 
but  who  will  say  that  he  has  been  less  fortunate  in  his 
own  domain  than  many  of  the  latter  in  theirs? 

The  history  of  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre  during 
the  last  portion  of  its  early  career  calls  for  little  com- 
ment. Alice  Milligan's  The  Last  Feast  of  the  Fianna 
(1900)  had  that  succes  d'estime  which  is  accorded  at 
times  to  the  innovator.  It  was  the  first  of  those 
Heroic  dramas  which  were  to  become  a  feature  of 
the  Irish  National  Theatre.  Douglas  Hyde's  The 


304   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Twisting  of  the  Rope  (1901)  was  an  even  greater 
innovation,  being  the  first  play  to  be  performed  in 
Irish  in  any  theatre,  and  its  success  was  commensu- 
rate with  its  actual  fine  qualities  as  well  as  with  its 
sentimental  value.  The  somewhat  startling  collab- 
oration of  George  Moore  and  W.  B.  Yeats  gave  the 
Theatre  its  third  drama  of  legend,  Diarmuid  and 
Crania,  of  which  the  only  printed  text  made  public 
is  the  fragment  in  French  disclosed  by  George  Moore 
in  Ave  (1911),  that  imaginative  history  of  the  first 
years  of  the  Dramatic  Movement.  The  strange 
story  of  that  collaboration,  and  the  inner  workings 
of  the  creative  machinery  which  produced  the  Irish 
Literary  Theatre  and  its  literature,  have  been  ex- 
posed in  a  fashion  which  must  debar  more  prosaic 
minds  from  reconstructing  the  narrative.  The  first 
volume  of  George  Moore's  trilogy  contains  all  the 
facts  (in  addition  to  others)  which  concern  us.  Even 
had  he  repressed  the  desire  for  expansive  reminis- 
cence, a  glance  at  the  result  of  its  three  years  activity 
would  enlighten  the  student  of  the  Irish  Literary 
Theatre.  The  presence  of  conflicting  aims  and  un- 
realised projects  is  revealed  by  the  miscellaneous 
nature  of  the  programmes.  With  the  exception  of 
Yeats's  first  play,  which  was  not  written  specifically 
for  production,  the  important  contributions  are  those 
of  Edward  Martyn.  If  we  credit  him  with  the  con- 
ception of  The  Bending  of  the  Bough,  it  will  be  found 
that  the  three  most  successful  plays  produced,  and 
those  wholly  congruous  with  the  professed  aims  of  the 
Theatre,  were  the  work  of  the  one  man  who  has  been 
constant  to  the  first  principles  of  the  Movement. 

The  promise  of  Diarmuid  and  Crania  was  as  neg- 
ligible as  the  preposterous  circumstances  of  its 
existence  would  lead  one  to  expect.  It  was  an 
obvious  make-shift  to  give  the  programme  an  ap- 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT        305 

pearance  of  complying  with  Yeats's  desire  for 
legendary  drama.  The  Last  Feast  of  the  Fianna  was 
not  calculated  to  enforce  the  claim  to  exploit  the 
Heroic  period,  while  The  Twisting  of  the  Rope,  which 
followed  Diarmuid  and  Crania  the  same  night,  was 
counted  rather  as  a  triumph  for  the  Gaelic  League. 
Inevitably  there  seemed  but  one  conclusion  to  be 
drawn;  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre  was  best  equipped 
for  the  production  of  dramas  like  Maeve  and  The 
Heather  Field.  Had  Yeats  written  another  play 
such  as  The  Countess  Kathleen,  had  Moore  conse- 
crated his  great  gifts  of  observation  and  satire  to 
an  original  work  of  his  own  for  the  stage,  there  might 
have  been  further  progress,  with  the  greater  success 
due  to  experience.  But  there  came,  instead,  an 
abrupt  halt.  Almost  all  the  elements  of  national 
drama  were  present  in  the  achievement  of  the  Irish 
Literary  Theatre,  the  poetic  play,  the  play  of  modern 
manners,  the  psychological,  the  historic  drama. 
Some  were  only  embryonic,  but  the  possibilities  of 
evolving  a  representative  dramatic  literature  from 
these  elements  were  clearly  defined.  But  one  thing 
was  lacking,  the  folk-play,  and  this  was  enough  to 
hasten  a  dissolution  already  threatened  by  the  par- 
tial eclipse  of  the  other  form  of  dramatic  art — the 
poetic — to  which  Yeats  was  most  attached.  As  soon 
as  he  saw  that  neither  Martyn  nor  Moore  was  suffi- 
ciently concerned  for  the  comparative  failure  of  the 
one  to  assert  itself,  and  for  the  complete  absence  of 
the  other,  he  was  glad  to  start  afresh.  He  had  found 
a  path  which  promised  to  lead  to  the  goal  he  most 
ardently  desired. 

The  Irish  Literary  Theatre  did  not  die  when  its 
founders  separated.  Edward  Martyn  clung  tena- 
ciously to  the  plan  which  he  had  originally  con- 
ceived. With  the  intermittent  help  of  amateur 


306   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

organizations,  notably  The  Players'  Club  and  the 
Independent  Theatre  Company,  he  continued  to 
devote  himself  to  modern  drama,  encouraging  the 
production  of  Scandinavian  and  Russian  plays,  as  a 
means  of  keeping  before  us  the  ideal  at  which  he 
aimed.  All  his  later  work,  from  1902  on,  was  per- 
formed by  these  amateur  companies,  until  he  at  last 
was  able  to  secure  a  nucleus  of  players  and  play- 
wrights with  which  to  resuscitate  the  Irish  Literary 
Theatre.  There  is  now  hope  that  the  plans  of  fifteen 
years  ago  will  materialise,  and  that  Ireland  will  have 
a  theatre  open  to  the  production  of  the  best  modern 
drama,  national  and  foreign.  After  a  preliminary 
season  in  1914,  to  which  only  Irish  dramatists  con- 
tributed, a  second  year  was  begun  with  Tchekhov's 
Uncle  Fanya.  Should  a  public  surfeited  with  peas- 
ant plays  support  the  enterprise,  Edward  [Martyn's 
many  years  of  unappreciated  effort  will  be  rewarded. 
It  must  always  be  a  regret  that  the  fine  talent  re- 
vealed in  The  Heather  Field  and  in  Maeve  should 
have  been,  in  part,  thwarted  by  the  absence  of 
favourable  conditions  for  its  development.  The 
word  "amateur"  has  not  infrequently  been  applied 
in  criticism  of  Martyn's  work.  There  is,  it  is  true,  a 
certain  stiffness  of  movement,  in  his  later  plays  espe- 
cially, and  an  absence  of  strong  characterisation  in 
the  rather  formal  speech  he  employs.  Everything 
that  could  help  to  broaden  his  work,  that  could  make 
his  style  supple,  has  been  lacking.  The  wider  audi- 
ence, the  more  experienced  acting,  and  the  more  gen- 
eral criticism  and  appreciation,  which  have  helped 
the  Irish  National  Theatre,  were  denied  to  Edward 
Martyn.  It  seems,  therefore,  that  he  is  all  the  more 
entitled  to  recognition  for  the  good  work  he  has  done, 
both  creative  and  other,  on  behalf  of  the  literary 
drama  in  Ireland. 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT        307 

Nothing  is  easier,  of  course,  than  to  be  wise  after 
the  experience  of  others,  and  we  have  little  difficulty 
in  seeing  the  error  of  splitting  up  the  Dramatic 
Movement,  at  the  end  of  its  experimental  three  years. 
The  absence  of  folk-drama  was,  admittedly,  a  notice- 
able defect  in  an  undertaking  which  was  engaged  in 
creating  a  dramatic  literature  representative  of 
Ireland.  But  to  the  disinterested  student  there 
appears  no  reason  why  this  need  should  not  have 
been  met,  without  involving  the  loss  of  what  had 
already  been  established.  The  plays  of  Yeats  and 
Martyn  could  just  as  well  have  been  produced  under 
the  same  auspices,  they  were  not  in  any  way  mutu- 
ally exclusive.  In  fact,  as  we  shall  see,  in  his  second 
experiment,  successful  as  it  has  been,  Yeats  was  dis- 
appointed of  his  hope  that  the  poetic  drama  would 
flourish.  He  is  the  only  poet  writing  for  the  Irish 
National  Theatre  whose  work  has  been  in  the  least 
adapted  for  the  stage.  Peasant  comedy  and  realism 
have  been  the  chief  title  to  fame  of  the  theatre  which 
succeeded  his  first  experiment  with  Moore  and 
Martyn.  In  consequence,  we  may  say  that  Yeats's 
ideal  has  been  hardly  more  fully  realised  than  would 
have  been  possible  had  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre 
been  continued  with  his  help.  Had  the  literary 
energies  of  the  time  been  concentrated,  instead  of 
scattered,  that  Theatre  would  have  attracted  all  the 
talents,  and  doubtless  folk-drama  would,  in  due 
course,  have  asserted  its  claim  to  existence.  As  it 
was,  the  Movement  continued  its  bifurcated  career, 
and  took  on  an  unavoidable  narrowness;  too  much 
of  the  folk  element  on  one  side,  and  none  on  the 
other.  Justly  celebrated  as  the  Irish  Players  have 
become,  it  would  be  absurd  to  pretend  that  their 
repertoire  mirrors  more  than  a  part  of  Irish  life,  yet 
they  are  absolutely  debarred  from  the  interpretation 


308    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

of  that  part  which  is  missing.  Their  strength  in 
folk-drama  is  their  weakness  outside  it.  To  under- 
stand how  this  weakness  has  simultaneously  made  and 
unmade  the  success  of  our  national  drama,  we  must 
see  why  it  was  strong  enough  to  shape  the  subse- 
quent evolution  of  the  Irish  Dramatic  Movement. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE     DRAMATIC     MOVEMENT:      SECOND 

PHASE 

THE  ORIGINS  OF  THE  IRISH  NATIONAL  THEATRE: 
W.  G.  FAY'S  IRISH  NATIONAL  DRAMATIC  COMPANY. 
THE  INITIATORS  OF  FOLK-DRAMA:  J.  M.  SYNGE 
AND  PADRAIC  COLUM 

IT  is  rather  generally  believed  that  the  present 
National  Theatre  Society  developed  out  of  the 
Irish  Literary  Theatre,  although  a  strong 
effort  of  imagination  is  demanded  to  connect 
the  two.  How  can  a  theatre  justly  famous  for  its 
school  of  folk-drama  and  peculiarly  appropriate 
tradition  of  acting  represent  the  further  evolution 
of  an  institution  which  contained  no  trace  of  either, 
and  ceased  to  exist  because  of  its  supposed  inability 
to  admit  them?  The  truth  is,  it  does  not.  The 
National  Theatre  Society  traces  its  origins  to  an 
entirely  different  source,  which  existed  prior  to  the 
separation  of  the  founders  of  the  Irish  Literary 
Theatre.  The  brothers,  W.  G.  and  F.  J.  Fay,  were 
responsible  for  bringing  together  the  company  of 
Irish  actors  which  grew  into  what  is  now  called  the 
Irish  Theatre.  They  had  a  native  genius  for  acting 
which  they  imperfectly  satisfied  by  giving  amateur 
performances  in  different  places  throughout  Dublin 
and  its  neighbourhood,  but  on  coming  into  contact 
with  A.  E.,  through  the  intermediary  of  James  H. 
Cousins,  the  Fays  were  encouraged  to  lay  the  foun- 

309 


3io   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

dations  of  the  Irish  National  Theatre.  A.  E.  had 
written  that  delicate  prose  poem,  Deirdre,  which  was 
published  five  years  later,  in  1907,  as  his  only  con- 
tribution to  our  dramatic  literature.  This  play  at 
once  appealed  to  Frank  Fay  and  his  brother,  who 
recognised  in  it  the  sort  of  work  which  they  had 
sought,  and  partially  found,  in  Alice  Milligan's 
Deliverance  of  Red  Hugh,  their  performance  of  which 
had  interested  A.  E.  The  desire  of  the  Fays  was  all 
for  purely  national  drama,  acted  by  Irish  players, 
and  interpreted  in  the  native  tradition,  far  removed 
from  that  of  the  English  stage,  commercial  or  other- 
wise. Obviously,  here  were  the  collaborators  re- 
quired by  Yeats,  in  his  dissatisfaction  with  the  Eng- 
lish actors  and  the  divergent  aims  of  the  Irish  Lit- 
erary Theatre.  In  a  short  time  he,  too,  had  made  the 
acquaintance  of  this  new  company,  which  had  inde- 
pendently been  working  along  the  lines  he  himself 
had  wished  the  Literary  Theatre  to  follow.  Most 
conveniently  he  found  an  instrument  ready  to  carry 
on  the  work  which  had  not  recommended  itself  to  his 
original  collaborators. 

On  the  2nd  of  April,  1902,  AJL.'sDeirdre,  for  which 
he  himself  designed  the  costumes  and  scenery,  was 
produced  by  the  Fays  and  their  group  of  actors,  now 
styled  the  "Irish  National  Dramatic  Company." 
On  the  same  programme  appeared  Kathleen  ni  Houli- 
han by  W.  B.  Yeats.  The  charm  of  the  acting,  into 
which  the  Fays  infused  that  fine  spirit  whose  ser- 
vice to  the  Theatre  can  never  be  overestimated, 
enhanced  the  success  of  these  two  beautiful  little 
plays,  and  determined  the  fate  of  the  Irish  Theatre. 
There  was  now  no  doubt  that  native  Irish  drama 
could  be  developed  with  the  assistance  of  this  group 
of  enthusiasts,  whose  energies  were  controlled  by 
two  actors  of  genius.  Later  on  in  the  same  year  they 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT        311 

moved  to  the  Antient  Concert  Rooms,  and  on  the 
scene  of  the  Literary  Theatre's  debut,  repeated  their 
initial  triumph,  in  addition  to  producing  four  new 
plays :  The  Sleep  of  the  King  and  The  Racing  Lug,  by 
James  H.  Cousins;  A  Pot  of  Broth,  by  W.  B.  Yeats; 
and  The  Laying  of  the  Foundations,  by  Frederick 
Ryan.  With  the  exception  of  the  last-mentioned,  a 
satirical  comedy  of  municipal  life,  recalling  Edward 
Martyn's  similar  attempts,  all  these  plays  were 
definitely  of  the  then  new  school,  now  so  familiar. 
The  Sleep  of  the  King  was  a  minor  essay  in  the  genre 
which  Yeats's  poetic  dramas  of  ancient  legend  alone 
have  illustrated  successfully  during  the  later  years 
of  the  Irish  Theatre.  The  Racing  Lug,  a  peasant 
tragedy  of  the  sea,  foreshadowed  Synge's  little  mas- 
terpiece, while  A  Pot  of  Broth  was  the  legitimate 
ancestor  of  those  comedies  and  farces  which  Lady 
Gregory  has  made  specially  her  own,  having  been,  in 
fact,  largely  written  by  her. 

Thus,  at  the  close  of  its  second  season  the  Irish 
National  Dramatic  Company,  under  the  influence 
and  direction  of  the  brothers  Fay,  had  traced,  as  it 
were,  the  boundaries  of  the  domain  in  which  the 
Irish  Theatre  was  to  become  master.  They  had 
prepared  the  ground,  collected  the  company  and 
created  the  tradition  of  acting  which  was  to  give  the 
fullest  play  to  the  peculiar  quality  of  our  national 
folk  and  poetic  drama.  Once  they  had  the  collabo- 
ration of  playwrights  whose  work  corresponded  to 
their  histrionic  genius,  the  framework  of  a  National 
Theatre  was  rapidly  constructed.  But  this  frame- 
work was  essentially  determined  by  the  Fays,  inas- 
much as  their  limitations  imposed  the  lines  within 
which  the  drama  was  enclosed.  We  can  now  see 
why  the  second  phase  of  the  Dramatic  Movement 
was  dominated  by  that  element  which  is  at  once  its 


312   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

i 

strength  and  its  weakness.  When  W.  B.  Yeats  and 
Lady  Gregory  turned  to  the  Irish  National  Dramatic 
Company  they  had  not  the  freedom  enjoyed  by  the 
Literary  Theatre.  They  had  to  accept,  for  the 
furtherance  of  their  purpose,  a  medium  already 
formed,  and  with  certain  pronounced  characteris- 
tics. It  so  happened  that  these  characteristics 
harmonised  almost  miraculously  with  their  own  con- 
ception of  what  the  greater  part  of  Irish  drama 
should  be.  But  a  limit  was  necessarily  imposed  upon 
the  development  of  the  drama,  outside  of  which 
failure  was  obvious.  It  became,  therefore,  the  duty 
of  Yeats  to  explain  why  the  limitations  of  a  theatre 
where  only  subjects  drawn  from  legend  and  peasant 
life  could  be  treated,  were  preferable  to  those  of  the 
theatre  which  Edward  Martyn  desired.  To  this 
question  Yeats  as  editor  of  the  Theatre's  organ, 
Samhain,  devoted  many  eloquent  pages,  to  which 
we  shall  return. 

In  1903  control  passed  out  of  the  hands  of  W.  G. 
and  F.  J.  Fay,  when  the  Irish  National  Theatre 
Society  was  formed,  with  W.  B.  Yeats  as  president. 
In  a  prospectus  the  Society  claimed  "to  continue  on 
a  more  permanent  basis  the  work  of  the  Irish  Lit- 
erary Theatre,"  whereas  its  real  purpose  was  to  carry 
on  the  work  of  the  Fays,  who  remained  in  the  Theatre 
until  1908,  giving  the  best  of  themselves  and  helping 
it  to  distinction  in  a  measure  only  surpassed  by  J.  M. 
Synge.  Indeed,  the  latter's  stage  success,  as  dis- 
tinct from  the  recognition  accorded  to  his  published 
work,  was  due  to  them;  to  W.  G.  Fay  for  his  won- 
derful interpretation  of  the  title  role  in  The  Playboy 
of  the  Western  World,  and  his  creation  of  the  chief 
male  part  in  every  other  play  of  Synge's  previously 
performed  in  Ireland;  to  Frank  Fay  for  the  train- 
ing of  a  company,  without  which  the  Irish  Theatre 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         313 

would  have  been  deprived  of  its  most  valuable  asset. 
It  is  noteworthy  that  its  decline  dates  from  their 
departure,  when  the  spirit  which  made  the  tradition 
upon  which  the  Theatre  now  lives  began  to  fade. 
But  at  this  time  there  could  be  no  question  of  de- 
cline, for  the  Dramatic  Movement  was  surely  ap- 
proaching its  apogee.  The  year  1903  saw  not  only 
the  production  of  Yeats's  admirable  poetic  plays,  The 
Kings  Threshold  and  The  Shadowy  Waters,  but  also 
J.  M.  Synge's  In  the  Shadow  of  the  Glen  and  Padraic 
Colum's  Broken  Soil,  with  which  the  two  most  not- 
able of  the  new  dramatists  introduced  themselves 
as  remarkable,  but  totally  dissimilar,  exponents  of 
peasant  drama.  Then  the  Irish  Literary  Society 
invited  the  players  to  London,  where  the  apprecia- 
tion of  disinterested  critics  confirmed  the  wisdom  of 
the  enterprise,  the  more  so  as  it  took,  in  one  instance, 
the  form  of  a  substantial  deed.  Miss  A.  E.  F.  Horni- 
man  was  so  favourably  impressed  that  she  granted 
the  Irish  National  Theatre  Society  an  annual  subsidy, 
provided  the  Abbey  Theatre,  and  leased  it  to  them 
rent  free  for  a  term  of  six  years.  From  1904  on  we 
have  been  possessed  of  a  National  Theatre,  in  the 
material  as  well  as  the  literary  sense  of  the  world. 
The  fact  was  signalised  by  the  adoption  in  1905  of 
the  title,  The  National  Theatre  Society,  the  ulti- 
mate metamorphosis  of  W.  G.  Fay's  Irish  National 
Dramatic  Company,  and  the  final  variation  of  its 
nomenclature. 

Perhaps  the  most  succinct  statement  of  the  con- 
ception of  national  drama  which  separated  W.  B. 
Yeats  from  Edward  Martyn  was  that  made  by  the 
former  in  the  1902  issue  of  Samhain:  "Our  move- 
ment is  a  return  to  the  people  .  .  .  and  the  drama 
of  society  would  but  magnify  a  condition  of  life 
which  the  countryman  and  the  artisan  could  but 


3H   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

copy  to  their  hurt.  The  play  that  is  to  give  them  a 
quite  natural  pleasure  should  either  tell  them  of 
their  own  life,  or  of  that  life  of  poetry  where  every 
man  can  see  his  own  image,  because  there  alone 
does  human  nature  escape  from  arbitrary  condi- 
tions." Written  at  the  beginning  of  the  National 
Theatre's  career,  these  words  forecast  definitely  the 
nature  of  its  work,  and  show  precisely  on  what 
grounds  Yeats  preferred  the  limitations  of  the  second 
to  those  of  the  first  phase  of  the  Dramatic  Move- 
ment. The  imaginative  re-creation  of  history  and 
legend,  coupled  with  the  study  of  life  amongst  those 
classes  whose  national  characteristics  are  most 
marked,  seemed  to  Yeats  the  best  foundation  upon 
which  to  build  an  Irish  Theatre.  Arguing  before 
events  had  come  to  prove  the  truth  of  his  assertions, 
he  was  obliged  to  refer  to  classical  literature,  Eng- 
lish and  foreign,  for  support  of  his  contention.  He 
knew,  however,  that  the  facts  of  Irish  life  would 
ultimately  furnish  contemporary  evidence  in  his 
favour.  The  countryside  still  preserved  that  un- 
written literature,  poetic  and  legendary,  whose  ex- 
ploitation in  the  theatre  would  at  once  create  the 
bond  of  personal  sympathy  and  interest  which  united 
the  mind  of  the  dramatist  with  that  of  the  simple 
people  in  Elizabethan  England.  In  another  issue  of 
Samhain  he  illustrates  this  advantage  of  the  Irish 
writer,  contrasting  the  absence  of  a  common  ground 
between  the  poet  and  the  people  in  England,  with 
the  contrary  condition  in  Ireland.  "Milton  set  the 
story  of  Sampson  into  the  form  of  a  Greek  play, 
because  he  knew  that  Sampson  was,  in  the  English 
imagination,  what  Herakles  was  in  the  imagination 
of  Greece."  But  a  censorship  deprives  the  drama- 
tist of  such  subjects  nowadays,  although  the  Bible 
stories  occupy  the  same  place  in  the  popular  mind 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         315 

of  England  as  the  tales  of  Finn  and  Ossian  in  Ire- 
land. 

If  we  add  to  this  the  closely  related  fact  of  Gaelic 
speech,  we  have  all  the  circumstances  that  have 
helped  to  give  substance  to  the  theory  from  which 
Yeats  started.  The  Anglo-Irish  idiom,  uncontam- 
inated  by  cheap  journalistic  influences,  full  of  vigor- 
ous archaisms,  and  coloured  by  the  poetic  energy  of 
Gaelic,  has  done  more  than  anything  else  to  raise  the 
peasant  drama  to  the  level  of  literature.  This  factor 
enters,  of  course,  into  the  belief  expressed  by  Yeats 
that  a  return  to  the  people  is  necessary  to  the  crea- 
tion of  national  drama,  but  he  was  singularly  for- 
tunate in  finding  a  dramatist  who  was  to  make  of 
the  popular  idiom  the  most  powerful  vehicle  of  lit- 
erary expression  in  modern  times.  It  cannot  be 
denied  that  he  was,  in  any  case,  entirely  justified  in 
holding  romantic,  historical  and  peasant  plays  to 
be  the  true  basis  of  our  national  dramatic  art.  The 
essence  of  nationality  could  be  extracted  from  such 
material,  and,  although  Yeats's  plays  have  had  no 
important  successors,  the  folk-drama  has  flourished, 
with  the  help  of  a  few  original,  and  a  host  of  imi- 
tative, dramatists.  It  is  the  latter,  numerously 
present  and  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others,  who  enable 
us  to  sympathise  with  Edward  Martyn's  plea  for 
another  class  of  play.  Once  the  peasant  convention 
had  been  reduced  to  a  formula,  it  was  natural  to  turn 
away  impatiently  in  the  hope  of  seeing  some  inno- 
vator prepared  to  renounce  the  assured  success  of 
repetition.  In  recent  years  there  has  been  a  notice- 
able decline  in  the  quality  of  the  plays  produced  in 
obedience  to  the  principle,  sound  as  it  was,  which 
Yeats  invoked  against  Edward  Martyn  more  than  a 
decade  ago.  If  the  drama  of  peasant  life  had  not 
transcended  the  limits  of  success  which  might,  at  the 


316    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

outset,  Have  been  assigned  to  it,  the  Irish  Theatre 
would  not  find  itself  dominated  by  one  particular 
genre.  But  the  domination  is  largely  the  result  of  an 
unforeseen  circumstance,  the  transfiguration  of  the 
peasant  play  by  a  writer  of  such  genius  that  his  work 
is  already  classic. 


J.    M.    SYNGE 

The  great  "event"  in  the  history  of  the  Irish 
Theatre  has  been  the  discovery  and  universal  recog- 
nition of  the  genius  of  J.  M.  Synge,  whose  brief  activ- 
ity of  six  years  (from  1903  to  1909)  had  a  decisive 
influence  upon  contemporary  drama  in  Ireland. 
There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  peasant  play,  now 
characteristic  of  the  National  Theatre,  owes  its  suc- 
cess to  this  writer  who  at  the  outset  revealed  its 
dramatic  and  poetic  possibilities.  In  a  series  of 
masterpieces  Synge  established  his  command  of  this 
form,  whether  adapted  to  tragedy  or  comedy,  and 
proved  his  title  to  rank  with  the  great  dramatists  of 
European  literature.  The  circumstances  of  his  debut 
all  combined  to  strengthen  the  prestige  which  he  was 
to  lend  to  the  folk-drama.  It  has  already  been  ob- 
served that  the  histrionic  talent  of  the  brothers  Fay, 
and  the  tradition  they  imparted  to  their  group  of 
players,  were  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  development 
of  the  peasant  play.  Add  to  this  the  fact  that 
Synge's  very  first  piece,  In  the  Shadow  of  the  Glen, 
provoked  that  ignorant  hostility  which  followed  his 
later  work  with  increased  venom,  and  whose  mani- 
festation could  not  but  awaken  a  sense  of  resistance. 
The  natural  determination  of  intelligent  minds,  in 
the  face  of  unreasoning  prejudice,  is  to  persevere,  in 
obedience  to  the  faith  that  is  engendered  by  the  op- 
position of  inferiors.  The  stand  made  by  W.  B. 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         317 

Yeats  for  artistic  freedom,  when  he  championed 
Synge  against  mob-rule  in  literature,  was  as  greatly 
to  his  credit  as  was  his  discernment  in  previously 
sensing  that  latent  genius  whose  expression  he  had 
subsequently  to  defend  so  generously.  Obviously 
such  a  struggle  as  was  waged  on  behalf  of  its  greatest 
exponent  served  only  to  enhance  the  claims  of  the 
folk-drama.  The  innumerable  detractors  of  Synge 
contributed  largely  towards  confirming  his  own  repu- 
tation, as  well  as  consolidating  the  hold  of  the  peasant 
play  upon  a  movement  already  predisposed  in  its 
favour. 

J.  M.  Synge  brought  an  equipment  to  his  collabo- 
ration in  the  Irish  Theatre  very  different  from  that  of 
his  fellow-workers.  With  the  exception  of  Yeats, 
none  of  the  new  dramatists  had  come  into  direct  con- 
tact with  foreign  peoples  and  culture,  and  Yeats's 
experiences  of  London  and  Paris  were  those  of  litera- 
ture rather  than  of  life.  Synge,  on  the  other  hand, 
cared  little  for  literature,  and  fled  to  the  continent  as 
soon  as  his  university  career  was  terminated,  in  order 
to  satisfy  that  instinct  of  vagabondage  which  impels 
those  who  search  for  adventures,  not  among  books, 
but  among  men.  A  sonnet  in  Kottabos,  in  1893,  the 
year  of  his  departure  from  Trinity  College,  Dublin, 
was  all  that  he  left  as  evidence  of  his  literary 
proclivities,  before  beginning  those  wander-years 
which  culminated  in  his  meeting  with  Yeats  in  Paris 
about  1898.  When  he  returned,  at  the  latter's  sug- 
gestion, to  the  Aran  Islands,  he  had  already  a  sharp- 
ened sense  of  the  realities  of  life  as  felt  by  those  living 
in  more  direct  contact  with  nature.  Instinctively 
he  had  sought  out  the  humbler  companionships  of  the 
roadside,  while  his  linguistic  attainments  permitted 
him  to  penetrate  the  exterior  aspects  of  the  foreign 
scenes  through  which  he  moved.  His  ears,  trained 


3i8    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

by  the  sounds  of  several  European  languages  in  addi- 
tion to  English  and  Gaelic,  were  well  fitted  to  catch 
the  rhythms  and  music  of  that  idiom  which  he  brought 
into  literature  from  the  Western  seashore  and  the 
Wicklow  hills. 

Whether  he  learned  anything  from  the  peasant 
plays  of  Hauptmann  and  Anzengruber  is  a  matter  of 
conjecture,  but  of  his  debt  to  French  literature  there 
is  evidence  in  his  desire  to  become  known  as  its  inter- 
preter for  English  readers.  The  influence  of  Loti  and 
Maeterlinck,  of  whom  he  had  written  in  some  of  his 
rare  essays  in  criticism,  is  occasionally  visible  in  his 
dramatic  work,  but  his  obligations  are  general  rather 
than  particular.  That  he  was  attracted  by  the 
French  ideal  is  evidenced  by  his  love  for  Marot, 
Villon,  Ronsard  and  Racine,  especially  Racine,  upon 
whom  he  proposed  to  write  a  critical  study.  He 
abandoned  this  project  at  the  instance  of  Yeats, 
whose  object  was  less  open  to  criticism,  in  this  con- 
nection, than  the  argument  employed  to  secure  it. 
Fortunately  the  return  of  Synge  to  Ireland  was  not 
conditioned  by  a  demand  for  proof  of  Yeats's  monop- 
olistic plea  on  behalf  of  an  earlier  English  critic  of 
French  literature.  Doubtless  there  was  little  reason 
to  suppose  that  one  so  careless  of  ideas  as  Synge 
could  adequately  criticise  literature.  He  certainly 
could  not  have  challenged  opinion  as  a  critic  with  the 
extraordinary  success  which  came  to  him  as  a  dram- 
atist. His  reading  of  French,  however,  did  not  fail 
to  leave  its  mark  upon  his  work.  He  surely  acquired 
thereby  that  highly  cultivated  sense  of  selection,  that 
need  of  artistic  order  and  method,  which  caused  him 
to  rewrite  with  meticulous  conscientiousness,  and 
helped  him  to  fashion  the  Anglo-Gaelic  idiom  into  a 
perfect  instrument  of  poetic  and  dramatic  speech. 
Perhaps,  too,  his  contact  with  a  literature  which  com- 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         319 

prises  a  Voltaire  and  an  Anatole  France  encouraged 
him  to  express  his  own  sardonic  humour  and  his 
ironic  disillusionment  in  the  presentation  of  human 
nature. 

Most  of  the  voluminous  and  repeated  studies  of 
Synge's  indebtedness  to  France  have  been  for  the 
purpose  of  coupling  his  name  with  precisely  those 
writers  whom  he  expressly  disliked,  or  with  whom  he 
had  no  point  in  common.  This  was  the  price  he 
paid  for  coming  into  the  Dramatic  Movement  with 
a  wider  and  more  varied  experience  than  is  usual  in 
Irishmen  of  letters.  Unfriendly  critics  gratified  their 
nescient  patriotism  by  attributing  to  "foreign  devils" 
everything  that  displeased  them  in  Synge.  As  they 
objected  frequently  to  his  most  original  and  vital 
qualities,  credit — or  discredit — for  these  was  given 
to  "decadent"  and  alien  influences.  The  same  pro- 
cedure was  adopted  to  a  lesser  degree  with  Yeats, 
whose  life  lent  colour  to  the  awful  suspicion  that  he 
was  not  wholly  ignorant  of  French  poetry.  In  both 
cases,  as  we  have  seen,  whatever  they  may  have  owed 
to  the  influence  of  France  was  visible  in  their  quali- 
ties rather  than  in  their  defects.  It  was  just  where 
Yeats  and  Synge  expressed  themselves  most  com- 
pletely that  they  were  accused  of  borrowing  from 
contaminated  sources.  Industrious  commentators 
have  estimated  and  proved  the  relationship  between 
Synge  and  Loti  or  Anatole  France.  Clear  as  are  the 
facts,  who  will  deny  that  the  note  is  most  original 
and  personal  precisely  where  something  of  an  identity 
of  attitude  transpires?  The  author  of  The  Playboy 
of  the  Western  World  shows  the  same  irony  as  the 
creator  of  Monsieur  Bergeret,  but  what  depths  of 
speculation  separate  the  tempered  intellectuality 
of  the  latter  from  the  exalted  simplicity  of  the 
former! 


320   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

As  if  he  had  foreseen  from  the  beginning  what  mis- 
applied ingenuity  would  be  brought  to  prove  him 
an  "alien"  and  a  "decadent,"  Synge  prepared  to 
leave  some  tangible  evidence  of  the  sources  whence 
his  dramatic  material  was  obtained.  Although  not 
published  until  1907,  The  Aran  Islands  belongs  to  the 
period  of  his  return  to  Ireland,  and  his  repeated 
sojourns  in  that  Western  World  which  supplied  him 
with  the  substance,  and  even  the  form,  of  his  most 
notable  contributions  to  the  Irish  Theatre.  Read 
in  conjunction  with  the  notebooks  compiled  from  his 
Wicklow  experiences,  this  volume  is  a  complete 
record  of  the  dramatist  and  his  work.  These  in- 
tensely interesting  pictures  of  life  in  the  Aran 
Islands  have  a  charm  independent  of  that  which  they 
derive  from  their  relation  to  the  plays.  They  reveal 
the  personality  of  Synge  almost  as  vividly  as  they 
evoke  the  colour,  the  tragedy  and  the  comedy  of  a 
corner  of  the  world  unspoiled  by  industrial  civilisa- 
tion. The  "drifting,  silent  man,  full  of  hidden 
passion,"  as  Yeats  describes  him,  surrenders  himself 
to  the  primitive  yet  highly  sensitive  race  whose  joys 
and  sorrows  we  feel  to  be  his  own.  There  is  a 
peculiar  note  of  intimate  understanding  and  sym- 
pathy in  Synge's  account  of  the  Islanders  which  dis- 
poses at  once  of  the  accusation  that  he  went  there  as 
a  "literary"  stranger  bent  upon  securing  "copy." 
His  sensations  are  not  those  of  an  idle  spectator; 
they  are  the  response  of  the  mind  and  soul  of  the 
race  to  the  least  corrupted  manifestations  of  our 
national  life  and  spirit.  This  response  is  all  the  more 
remarkable  because  of  its  sincerity.  Synge  is  utterly 
unconscious  of  the  extent  to  which  the  atmosphere 
and  voice  of  Aran  have  penetrated  his  consciousness. 
A  more  self-conscious  amateur  d?ames  would  never 
have  confessed,  like  Synge,  that  he  felt  a  stranger, 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         321 

so  modestly  did  he  estimate  his  capacity  to  assimilate 
those  elements  which  fascinated  his  imagination. 

By  a  strange  irony,  the  geneses  of  the  plays  most 
obnoxious  to  Gaelic  puritanism  are  so  indicated  in 
Synge's  notebooks  as  to  leave  no  doubt  as  to  their 
native  originX*7n  the  Shadow  of  the  Glen,  the  earliest 
of  his  offences  in  the  eyes  of  the  moral  jingoists,  was 
actually  modified  by  the  author.  Pat  Dirane's  nar- 
rative in  The  Aran  Islands,  with  its  denouement  of 
adultery  and  murder,  is  a  more  disquieting  reflection 
upon  certain  "patriotic"  illusions  than  Synge's  won- 
derful little  play.  Out  of  the  familiar  story  of  the 
husband  who  simulates  death  in  order  to  test  his 
wife's  fidelity,  known  to  Gaelic  folk-lore  no  less  than 
to  Oriental  legend,  Synge  made  a  characteristic 
tragedy  in  miniature.  Faithful  to  the  absence  of 
didactic  intention,  which  distinguished  the  author  in 
a  country  whose  breath  is  propaganda,  he  does  not 
attempt  to  make  Nora  Burke  the  vehicle  of  any  pro- 
test. He  simply  depicts  her  loveless  life  by  the  side 
of  an  old  husband,  in  that  lonely  valley,  drowned  in 
mists  from  the  mountains,  where  the  only  voice  that 
speaks  to  her  heart  is  the  whispering  wind,  mysteri- 
ously eloquent.  This  is  no  "doll's  house"  whose 
door  is  banged  by  feminine  revolt;  Nora  Burke  is  not 
an  intellectual  sister  of  her  Scandinavian  namesake. 
She  is  just  a  solitary  woman,  whose  human  instinct 
craves  the  adventure  of  freedom  and  youth.  This 
impulse  is  satisfied,  not  by  the  youth,  Michael,  for 
whom  she  used  to  feel  a  sentimental  attraction,  but 
by  the  tramp,  who  takes  her  with  him  to  share  the 
wild  joys  of  a  roadside  existence,./ 
/  Synge's  second  one-act  play,  Riders  to  the  Sea, 
graciously  approved  by  his  erstwhile,  and  subsequent, 
opponents,  also  had  its  roots  in  the  Aran  volume.  It 
was  written  about  the  same  time  as  In  the  Shadow  of 


322    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

the  Glen3  and  was  produced  shortly  after  the  latter  by 
the  Irish  National  Theatre  Society,  in  1904.  This 
almost  perfect  little  tragedy,  certainly  the  finest  in 
our  theatre,  may  be  traced  to  certain  definite  inci- 
dents recorded  in  The  Aran  Islands,  but  it  differs  from 
the  other  plays  thus  traceable,  in  that  it  is  the  very 
quintessence  of  the  spirit  with  which  that  book  is 
informed.  Into  one  act  the  dramatist  has  concen- 
trated all  the  passionate  horror  of  death,  as  it  broods 
over  the  Aran  fishermen,  menacing  them  in  their 
constant  struggle  with  the  sea.  Old  Maurya,  whose 
husband  and  five  sons  have  been  taken  from  her  by 
drowning,  becomes  a  symbolic  figure,  as  she  personi- 
fies the  grief  of  a  people  in  the  face  of  their  common 
enemy.  There  is  no  suspense  as  to  the  fate  of  her 
sixth  and  last  son,  Bartley,  who  rides  away  to  return 
no  more.  We  know  that  he  has  gone  to  meet  the 
same  destiny  as  his  father  and  brothers,  and  our 
interest  is  not  in  the  particular  event,  tragic  though 
it  be.  It  is  the  great,  universal  tragedy  of  death 
which  grips  the  attention  already  prepared  and  stim- 
ulated by  a  series  of  apparently  unpremeditated 
incidents  and  accidents,  which  announce  the  ap- 
proach of  the  dread  protagonist.  Maeterlinck's  In- 
truse  has  an  air  of  artificiality,  perhaps  because  of  its 
disembodied  action,  beside  the  spiritualised  realism 
of  Riders  to  the  Sea.  Maurya  takes  on  the  profound 
significance  of  an  ^Eschylean  figure,  in  her  vain  pro- 
test against  Fate,  and  her  ultimate  resignation.  She 
is  widely  human  in  her  revolt  and  submission,  as  she 
is  essentially  a  woman  of  the  Islands.  The  caoine  of 
the  mourners  is  equally  impressive,  because  of  its 
local  and  general  significance.  Synge,  with  his  mar- 
vellous sense  of  the  theatre,  an  extension  of  his  sense 
of  life,  was  able  to  make  this  play  at  once  a  con- 
summate technical  achievement  and  a  dramatic 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         323 

summary  of  the  Aran  Islands.  The  most  powerful 
effects  are  precisely  those  best  illustrating  the  facts 
of  existence  as  realised  by  those  who  fight  the  watelrs 
of  the  Atlantic  for  a  difficult  livelihood.  One  of  the 
author's  earliest  impressions  was  the  vital  import- 
ance of  this  menace  to  the  Islanders.  Describing 
the  keening  he  says: 

"In  this  cry  of  pain  the  inner  consciousness  of  the  people  seems 
to  lay  itself  bare  for  an  instant,  and  to  reveal  the  mood  of  beings 
who  feel  their  isolation  in  the  face  of  a  universe  that  wars  upon 
them  with  wind  and  seas.  They  are  usually  silent,  but  in  the 
presence  of  death  all  outward  show  of  indifference  or  patience  is 
forgotten,  and  they  shriek  with  pitiable  despair  before  the  horror 
of  the  fate  to  which  they  all  are  doomed." 

The  poignancy  of  this  cry  is  heard  through  every  line 
of  Riders  to  the  Sea^s 

Although  not  published  until  1908,  a  year  before 
Synge's  death,  The  Tinker's  Wedding  was  written 
contemporaneously  with  the  one-act  plays  above 
mentioned.  It  may  well  have  been  the  first  play 
conceived  by  him,  as  stated  by  Mr.  John  Masefield, 
for  it  is  the  weakest.  W.  B.  Yeats  has  informed  us 
that  the  published  version  differs  from  the  original 
form  in  being  more  "unpopular."  If  this  change  was 
due — as  the  circumstances  suggest — to  any  defiance 
of  popular  prejudice  by  the  author,  who  had  just 
passed  through  the  Playboy  "riot,"  one  can  only 
regret  that  his  courage  did  not  equal  his  artistic 
discrimination.  His  experiences  of  Wicklow  tramp 
life  should  have  provided  Synge  with  something 
more  substantial  than  this  farce,  whose  merits  hardly 
deserved  two  acts.  There  is  a  fine  energy  of 
grotesque  humour  in  the  anecdote  of  the  two  tinkers 
whose  belated  desire  to  legalise  their  union  results 
in  an  utterly  lawless  outburst  of  contempt  for  re- 
ligion and  morality.  The  complete  freedom  of  mind 


324   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

necessary  to  the  appreciation  of  Synge's  boisterous 
fun  has  not  yet  been  forthcoming  in  Ireland,  as 
might  be  expected,  when  one  remembers  the  par- 
ticular sanctities  the  author  already  stood  accused 
of  violating.  If  In  the  Shadow  of  the  Glen  and  The 
Playboy  seemed  irreverent,  The  Tinker's  Wedding  is 
positively  blasphemous,  judged  in  the  light  of  middle- 
class  Irish  propriety.  Synge,  of  course,  had  no  con- 
cern for  such  scruples,  but  he  had  an  artistic  con- 
science whose  probity  must  eventually  have  con- 
demned the  play  as  inferior  to  the  rest  of  his  work. 

The  Well  of  the  Saints  was  published  in  1905  as  the 
initial  volume  in  the  "Abbey  Theatre  Series"  of 
plays,  whose  fifteen  volumes  now  stand  as  a  syn- 
thesis of  the  best  work  of  the  Dramatic  Movement. 
The  play  was  performed  in  the  same  year,  and 
became  one  of  the  earliest  international  successes  of 
the  newly  established  Theatre,  having  been  per- 
formed in  German  at  Berlin  in  1906.  The  experi- 
mental two  acts  of  The  Tinker's  Wedding  may  be 
regarded  as  the  point  of  transition  to  the  full  devel- 
opment of  his  power  in  the  three  acts  of  The  Well  of 
the  Saints  and  its  successors.  Here  Synge  proclaims 
definitely  that  mastery  of  his  art  which  subsequent 
achievement  and  criticism  have  confirmed.  Relying 
upon  the  universally  recognised  dramatic  potentiali- 
ties of  blindness  as  a  theme,  the  author  infuses  his 
personality  and  his  mood  into  a  story  whose  origins 
are  not  traceable  to  any  of  his  usual  sources.  Neither 
in  Wicklow  nor  in  West  Kerry  nor  in  the  Aran  Islands 
do  his  notebooks  indicate  the  origins  of  this  play,  and 
much  useless  ingenuity  has  been  wasted  attributing 
it  to  Chaucer,  Zola,  Huysmans,  Maeterlinck,  Lord 
Lytton  and  Georges  Clemenceau!  The  determina- 
tion to  unearth  "sources"  in  the  case  of  Synge  has 
reached  the  point  of  an  obsession  with  many  critics, 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         325 

notably  with  those  unfavourably  disposed  towards 
him. 

The  theme  of  The  Well  of  the  Saints  is  as  universal 
as  that  of  Riders  to  the  Sea.  The  blind  beggars  who 
regain  their  sight  by  the  operation  of  a  miracle  and 
lose  it  again,  together  with  the  desire  to  see,  have 
an  interest  far  exceeding  that  which  could  be  di- 
minished by  the  fact  that  they  resemble  the  per- 
sonages in  Clemenceau's  Voile  du  Bonheur.  What- 
ever the  analogies  presented  by  "-The  Maid  of  Ma- 
lines"  in  Lytton's  The  Pilgrims  of  the  Rhine,  Synge's 
Martin  and  Mary  Dhoul  are  the  specific  creations 
of  the  author's  genius.  In  their  preference  for  the 
beauty  of  the  imaginary  world,  as  contrasted  with 
the  ugliness  of  reality  revealed  to  them  by  the 
recovery  of  their  sight,  they  are  at  once  symbolic  and 
personal.  Surely  we  may  see  in  their  rejection  of  the 
commonplace  facts  of  life  a  hint  of  that  attitude 
which  made  Synge  recoil  from  the  horrors  of  indus- 
trial progress,  and  take  refuge  amongst  a  people 
whose  imagination  coloured  reality  ?  It  is  only  neces- 
sary to  observe  in  what  beautiful  terms  Martin 
Dhoul  and  his  wife  interpret  the  world  as  trans- 
figured by  illusion,  to  conclude  that  they  -express 
the  author  himself.  By  a  natural  movement  of  the 
spirit  he  clothes  his  dream  in  the  language  whose 
rhythms  had  captured  and  held  him  far  from  the 
scene  of  modern  civilisation.  Preserving  his  char- 
acteristic interest  in  the  picturesque  realism  of  un- 
spoiled life,  Synge  has  given  his  peculiar  imprint  to 
the  essentially  Celtic  drama  of  the  conflict  between 
the  dream  and  the  reality. 

Until  1907  J.  M.  Synge  was  known,  only  to  a  lim- 
ited public,  as  the  author  of  three  plays,  two  of  which 
had  procured  him  a  reserve  of  enmity,  whose  fullest 
manifestation  coincided  with  the  extension  of  his 


326   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

fame  to  the  English-speaking  world  of  letters  in 
that  year.  The  incredible  history  of  The  Playboy  of 
the  Western  World  has  been  exhausted  by  numerous 
commentators,  and  may  now  be  left  for  the  notes  of 
some  future  compiler  of  "Curiosities  of  Literature." 
The  peculiarly  hypercritical,  over-strung  nature  of 
the  criticism  which  followed  Synge  from  the  begin- 
ning has  already  been  alluded  to.  It  takes  on  the 
aspect  of  an  uninterrupted  pursuit  of  dubious  lit- 
erary ancestors,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  bringing  some 
discredit  upon  the  author,  on  moral,  religious  or 
political  grounds.  Most  of  these  researches,  though 
ostensibly  directed  towards  estimating  Synge's  lit- 
erary indebtedness,  were  undertaken  with  obvious 
intent  to  create  prejudice,  by  associating  the  dram- 
atist with  names  not  honoured  in  Early  Victorian 
circles.  Where  the  appeal  is  not  merely  to  precon- 
ceived moral  verdicts,  there  is  usually  some  sugges- 
tion of  plagiarism.  On  the  appearance  of  The  Play- 
boy all  the  antagonisms  were  aroused  to  a  pitch  of 
unusual  violence,  a  veritable  cult  of  hostility  arose, 
and  the  anti-Synge  campaign  was  launched.  The 
noisy  proceedings  of  Synge's  opponents  secured  for 
the  play  a  wide  hearing,  which  might  otherwise  have 
been  deferred.  The  obscure  dramatist  found  himself 
famous  in  1907,  four  years  after  the  first  public  pro- 
duction of  his  work — such  was  the  recognition  he 
obtained  when  thrust,  by  unfriendly  hands,  upon  the 
attention  of  competent  critics. 

/The  charm  of  The  Playboy  lies  uniquely  in  its  ver- 
oal  and  imaginative  qualities.  To  enquire  what  are 
its  moral  intentions,  to  proclaim  it  libellous,  to  dis- 
cuss its  basis  in  reality,  is  to  confess  a  complete  under- 
standing of  the  spirit  in  which  such  masterpieces  are 
conceived.  The  fable  of  Christy  Mahon's  hour  of 
triumph,  when  the  belief  that  he  has  killed  his  father 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         327 

makes  him  at  last  conscious  of  his  own  identity,  by 
reaction  to  the  effect  of  his  exploit  upon  the  hearers 
of  his  narrative, — this  is  clearly  no  treatise  on  morals, 
to  be  refuted  by  reference  to  the  well-known  purity 
of  Irish  life.  Were  all  the  evidence  absent,  which 
proves  the  Irish  peasantry's  very  natural  weakness 
for  the  fugitive  from  justice,  the  value  of  Synge's 
conception  would  be  undiminished.  If  Pegeen  Mike 
were  a  grotesque  exaggeration,  instead  of  a  wonder- 
fully human  personality,  her  admiration  for  the 
alleged  parricide  would  still  be  one  of  those  pro- 
found intuitions  of  which  genius  alone  is  capable. 
The  play  is  a  pure  creation  of  the  imagination,  and 
its  language  responds  to  the  intensity  of  the  emotion 
in  which  it  was  conceived.  The  singular  beauty  of 
the  love-scenes  between  Christy  and  Pegeen  Mike, 
the  two  characters  in  whom  the  exaltation  of  the 
dramatist's  mood  is  most  heightened,  is  the  beauty 
of  poetry  in  its  essence.  It  is  poetry  untrammelled 
by  the  mechanism  of  verse,  as  befits  the  natural 
simplicity  of  the  speaker.^  The  rhythm  and  accent 
are  there,  coloured  and  emphasised  by  the  Gaelic- 
English  idiom,  which  has  now  become  for  the  author 
a  perfect  instrument  of  poetic  speech.  His  knowl- 
edge of  Gaelic,  his  work  of  selection  on  the  Aran 
Islands,  and  the  suggestions  gleaned  from  Hyde's 
Love  Songs  of  Connacht,  have  all  formed  in  Synge's 
mind  a  well  of  literary  strength,  from  which  he 
derives  the  most  diversely  magnificent  effects.  The 
amorous  raptures  of  Christy,  the  angry  interchanges 
of  the  women,  the  discourses  of  the  publican — to 
every  breath  of  passion  there  is  a  corresponding 
heightening  of  the  key  in  which  the  language  is 
pitched.  fLt  is  evident  that  Anglo-Irish  is  to  Synge 
a  medium  in  which  he  has  obtained  absolute  freedom, 
he  uses  it  with  the  same  effect  as  the  Elizabethans  used 


328    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

English.  The  savour  and  freshness  of  a  language  that  is 
still  unexploited,  the  wealth  of  imagery  and  the  verbal 
magnificence  of  the  Elizabethan  tongue  are  felt  and 
heard  again  in  The  Playboy  of  the  Western  World  j 

Nothing  is  more  pathetic  than  to  read  Synge's 
attempted  justification  of  this  play  in  response  to 
the  demand  for  a  statement  of  his  purpose.  His 
prefaces,  and  the  testimony  of  his  friends  and 
biographers,  show  how  averse  he  was  to  straining  his 
art  into  the  expression  of  "ideas,"  as  the  post- 
Shavian  theory  of  drama  demands.  The  stress  of 
the  riotous  moment  in  which  The  Playboy  appeared 
found  the  author  unprepared.  Critics  and  inter- 
viewers profited  by  his  distress  to  drag  from  him 
some  explanation  of  his  play.  He  was  first  stam- 
peded into  describing  it  as  an  "extravaganza,"  then 
we  find  him  writing  to  say  that  he  was  mistaken, 
and  soon  the  point  becomes  obscured  by  his  desire 
to  produce  evidence  as  to  the  probability  or  possi- 
bility of  the  incidents  denounced  in  his  play.  The 
effect  has  been  to  confound  this  evidence,  which 
replied  only  to  specific  accusations,  with  a  general 
plea  on  behalf  of  the  play  itself.  The  controversies 
are  dead,  but  there  still  remains  the  doubt  they  have 
sown  as  to  the  significance  of  The  Playboy.  The 
subject  has  been  discussed  in  a  manner  which  sug- 
gests nothing  less  absurd  than  an  argument  to  deter- 
mine whether  Cervantes  exaggerated,  when  describ- 
ing the  adventures  of  Don  Quixote,  or  whether 
Tartarin  de  Tarascon  was  created  by  Daudet  to 
illustrate  the  evils  of  mendacity.  It  is,  of  course, 
easier  to  recognise  the  creations  of  Daudet  and  Cer- 
vantes as  belonging  to  pure  fantasy;  they  are  remote 
from  us  materially,  but  both  writers  gave  offence  to 
their  immediate  audiences. 

We  have  seen  in  The  Well  of  the  Saints  an  example 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         329 

of  Synge's  realistic  treatment  of  a  theme  usually 
approached  from  the  opposite  direction.  The  Play- 
boy, it  may  be  said,  is  a  further  instance  of  the  same 
kind.  The  scene  of  the  play,  the  characterisation  of 
the  peasant  types  and  the  exteriorisation  of  the  drama 
seem  to  indicate  realism.  Consequently,  with  the 
protests  of  the  moralists  and  politicians  in  our  ears, 
and  the  propagandist  associations  of  dramatic  realism 
to  mislead  us,  we  have  attributed  to  Synge  intentions 
which  were  never  his,  and  to  whose  expression  he 
vainly  tried,  at  first,  to  adapt  himself.  Neither  in 
The  Playboy  nor  elsewhere  did  Synge  attempt  to 
contribute  to  the  so-called  theatre  of  ideas :f" The 
drama,"  he  says, "like  the  symphony,  does  not  teach 
or  prove  anything."  It  is  made  serious  "by  the 
degree  in  which  it  gives  the  nourishment*,  not  very 
§asy  to  define,  on  which  our  imaginations  live." 
/This  sentence  defines  exactly  the  serious  purport  of 
The  Playboy,  which  is  to  nourish  the  imagination. 
The  realism  of  the  play  is  no  more  nor  less  than 
the  realism  of  the  language  in  which  it  is  written. 
Both  are  the  synthetic  re-creation  of  very  real  ele- 
ments in  our  life.  Synge  boasted  that  there  was 
not  a  phrase  of  his  dramatic  speech  but  had  its  counter- 
part in  the  stories  and  conversations  he  heard  in 
Gaelic  Ireland,  yet  nobody  pretends  that  Christy 
Mahon's  talk  is  a  literal  transcription  from  life. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  play  as  a  whole.  It  is  a 
work  of  imaginative  reconstruction,  in  which  the 
moral  and  psychological  elements  are  transfigured 
until  they  take  on  a  universal  significance.  The 
Playboy  stands  in  the  same  relation  to  the  world  of 
the  Celtic  imagination  as  Don  Quixote  did  to  the 
Spain  of  his  day.  In  both  cases  the  central  figures 
have  an  existence  which  is  at  once  personal,  national 
and  human.  / 


330   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

The  least  important  of  Synge's  two  posthumous 
works  is  the  volume,  Poems  and  Translations,  pub- 
lished in  1909,  a  few  months  after  his  death.  These 
poems,  written,  for  the  most  part,  during  his  last 
period  of  illness,  have  the  exaggerated  strength,  de- 
generating into  brutality,  which  comes  easily  to  a 
spirit  strong  enough  to  resent  the  restraint  of  a  weak 
body.  The  latent  pessimism,  which  always  lurked 
behind  Synge's  most  boisterous  humour,  stands  out 
sharply  in  this  handful  of  verses  over  which  the 
shadow  of  his  impending  death  crept,  and  finally 
closed  in,  before  the  book  had  passed  through  the 
press.  Characteristically,  he  is  at  his  best  in  the  prose 
translations  from  Petrarch,  Villon  and  others,  where 
his  command  of  Anglo-Irish  idiom  serves  him  well. 
Petrarch  and  Leopardi  hardly  lent  themselves  to  this 
treatment,  and  his  versions  have  rather  the  interest 
of  an  old  song,  re-sung  in  the  accents  of  another  age. 
Villon,  however,  remains  admirably  himself  in  the 
Gaelicised  paraphrases  which  preserve  much  of  the 
wild  pathos  of  the  original. 

In  1910  the  unfinished  Deirdre  of  the  Sorrows  was 
given  to  the  public,  and  brought  home  fully  the  great 
loss  imposed  upon  Anglo-Irish  letters  by  the  death 
of  Synge.  That  he  could  bring  such  originality  and 
independence  to  the  handling  of  a  theme  whose 
treatment  a  long  line  of  poets  had  almost  predeter- 
mined, indicated  how  far  he  was  from  having  ex- 
hausted his  talent.  In  the  course  of  the  Revival  we 
have  seen  how  the  legend  of  Deirdre  and  Naisi  at- 
tracted writers  of  the  most  diverse  temperament, 
from  the  scholarly  Ferguson  to  the  mystic,  A.  E., 
and  Yeats,  the  dramatic  poet.  A.  E.  and  Yeats  both 
failed,  for  very  different  reasons,  to  dramatise  con- 
vincingly the  story  to  which  each  of  them  gave 
his  own  personal,  undramatic  imprint.  Synge  pro- 


THE  DRAMATIC  MQVEMENT         331 

jected  himself  perhaps  more  than  they  into  his  in- 
terpretation of  the  legend,  but  his  instinctive  feeling 
for  drama,  his  sense  of  the  theatre,  saved  him  from 
their  weakness.  Unlike  Yeats,  who  selected  only 
the  natural  crisis  as  the  moment  of  his  tragedy, 
Synge  followed  A.  E.  and  his  predecessors,  in  taking 
the  three  episodes  into  which  this  part  of  the  tragic 
history  of  the  Red  Branch  falls.  But  it  is  not  in 
technicalities  of  this  kind  that  we  must  look  for  the 
originality  of  Synge,  who  made  no  innovations, 
beyond  the  introduction  of  that  grotesque  character, 
Owen.  His  success  consisted  in  the  skill  with  which 
he  humanised  the  legendary  figures,  who  were  in 
danger  of  becoming  stereotyped  in  a  world  of  un- 
reality, from  which  neither  the  delicate  poetry  of 
Yeats  nor  the  mystic  evocations  of  A.  E.  could  save 
them.  Synge  did  not  approach  the  story  as  a  poet 
or  a  visionary,  but  as  a  folk-dramatist,  who  could  sense 
the  relationship  between  the  Ireland  of  the  legend 
and  that  Gaelic  Ireland  in  which  the  old  spirit  lingers. 
Still  using  the  speech  of  his  peasant  plays  he  con- 
trived to  produce  a  tragedy,  whose  poetry  surpasses 
that  of  Yeats's  verse  and  A.  E.'s  prose,  in  dignity 
and  beauty. 

In  Synge's  version  Deirdre  is  no  longer  a  mere  sym- 
bol or  shadow,  she  steps  out  of  legend  and  lives  before 
us  as  an  amorous  woman,  passionately  devoted  to 
beauty  and  happiness,  which  are  her  life.  Her  fear 
of  old  age,  whose  only  meaning  for  her  is  death,  has 
a  poignancy  enhanced  by  the  author's  power  to 
communicate  to  her  words  something  of  his  own 
despair  in  the  presentiment  that  death  was  soon  to 
rob  him  also  of  love  and  fame.  The  Leitmotiv,  "death 
is  a  poor  untidy  thing  at  best,  though  it's  a  queen 
that  dies,"  gives  the  play  a  tragic  intensity,  a  human 
note  absent  from  any  other  modern  retelling  of  the 


332    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Deirdre  saga.     The  heroic  legend  is  translated  into 
terms  of  universal  tragedy,  where  the  very  real  inter- 
est in  the  emotion  of  the  protagonists  by  no  means 
detracts   from  their  value   as   legendary  figures   of 
symbolic  significance.     As  Synge  sees  her,  Deirdre 
is  no  less  the  passionate  Queen  of  romance  than  the 
eternal  victim  of  love,  woman  as  she  resigns  herself 
to  the  inevitable  passing  away  of  what  she  holds 
dearest.     There  is  an  untamed  fierceness  in  these 
people  which  marks  them  at  once  as  belonging  to 
that  race  of  unspoiled  children  of  nature  whom  Synge 
loved  to  study.    In  their  primitiveness,  and  conse- 
quent resemblance  to  the  peasant  types  of  his  other 
plays,  they  approximate  more  closely  to  the  original 
personages  of  the  legend.     So  we  find,  again,  that  his 
exterior  realism  does  not  involve  any  localism,  but 
actually  transcends  the  immediate  occasion  of  it. 
Hence,  for  all  its  air  of  naturalistic  peasant  drama, 
Deirdre  of  the  Sorrows  most  completely  and  dramati- 
cally satisfies  the  demand  for  a  contemporary  re- 
handling  of  heroic  themes.    In  its  freedom  from  the 
hampering  effects   of   a   too   "literary"   version,   it 
achieves  the  swiftness  and  tension  of  high  tragedy. 
With  his  sure  instinct  in  these  matters  Synge  clears 
his  material  of  all  beauties  extraneous  to  the  art  of 
drama,  he  concentrates  the  action  upon  essentials, 
and  by  a  wonderful  employment  of  the  means  legiti- 
mately at  his  disposal,  he  causes  the  plays  to  move 
swiftly  to  the  climax,  whose  inevitability  broods  over 
each  scene.     It  is  unnecessary  to  know  the  legend, 
every  line  and  gesture  involves  the  denouement  and 
prepares  for  it  with  consummate  art. 

It  is  easy  to  see  what  a  future  Synge  might  have 
enjoyed  had  he  lived  to  extend  to  other  aspects  of 
our  national  life  the  methods  he  employed  to  such 
perfection.  The  material  of  legend  revivified  in  the 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         333 

theatre  after  the  manner  of  Deirdre  might  have  given 
us  a  more  varied  dramatic  literature  than  we  possess. 
The  absence  of  any  followers  of  Yeats  in  his  treat- 
ment of  legendary  lore,  and  the  prestige  of  Synge, 
suggest  that  the  latter  could  have  led  the  way  to  the 
dramatisation  of  the  Heroic  cycles  which  he  desired. 
As  it  is,  his  prestige  has  tended  to  effect  quite  con- 
trary results.  It  was  not  his  isolated  essay  in  heroic 
drama  that  influenced  his  contemporaries,  but  his 
so-called  "realistic"  folk-plays.  The  ceaseless  flow 
of  peasant  comedy  and  melodrama,  in  which  the 
National  Theatre  has  been  almost  submerged,  is  the 
penalty  exacted  by  the  success  of  Synge.  But  the 
query  suggests  itself:  was  Synge  really  a  writer  of 
realistic  peasant  plays  ?  Is  not  the  influence  in  ques- 
tion attributable  to  a  misunderstanding  of  his  work? 
Nobody  has  asserted  that  Deirdre  belonged  to  that 
category.  In  fact  regret  has  been  expressed  that 
Synge  should,  at  the  end,  have  forsaken  his  early 
manner.  But,  at  bottom,  Deirdre  and  The  Playboy 
have  more  points  of  resemblance  than  of  dissimi- 
larity, so  far  as  their  peasant  or  legendary  character 
is  concerned.  Reference  has  already  been  made  to 
Synge's  habit  of  treating  realistically  subjects  which 
his  compatriots  invariably  approach  from  a  different 
angle,  the  conflict  of  imagination  and  reality,  for 
example,  in  The  Well  of  the  Saints,  and  in  The  Play- 
boy itself.  The  naturalness  and  actuality  of  the  set- 
ting in  the  latter  case  are  particularly  misleading,  but 
reflection  would  seem  to  confirm  the  belief  that  the 
adventures  of  Christy  Mahon  take  place  in  the  same 
world  as  did  those  of  Peer  Gynt. 

In  fine,  Synge  was  a  realist  only  in  such  a  sense  of 
the  term  as  would  embrace  a  Cervantes  or  the  crea- 
tor of  Tartarin.  But  that  is  not  the  sense  in  which 
the  peasant  playwrights  have  understood  him. 


334   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

They  have  followed  him  only  where  he  was  most 
easily  imitated,  they  have  adopted  his  external  pro- 
cedure, ignoring  the  attitude  of  mind  which  brought 
him  to  the  peasantry.  His  interest  in  the  latter  was 
of  a  purely  spiritual  and  intellectual  order.  He  saw 
in  the  Aran  Islands  what  he  termed  athe  last  strong- 
hold of  the  Gael"  and  his  sole  concern  was  for  the 
spirit  and  tradition  which  he  felt  behind  its  inhabi- 
tants. A  work  of  pure  journalism — unique  in  his 
collected  writings — are  his  articles  on  the  Con- 
gested Districts,  and  there  little  of  the  genius  of  The 
Playboy  is  evident.  But  Synge  was  quite  indifferent 
to  the  material  aspects  of  peasant  life,  except  in  so 
far  as  they  lent  themselves  to  his  artistic  purpose. 
He  regretted  deeply  any  changes  which  seemed  to 
threaten  the  richness  of  the  literary  vein  which 
nourished  his  imagination.  Of  peasant  realism, 
what,  after  all,  has  he  given  us  but  a  few  picturesque 
details  which  caught  the  eye  of  the  dramatist?  The 
language  of  his  plays,  the  most  tangible  of  his  debts 
to  the  peasantry,*has  awakened  no  important  echoes 
in  the  work  of  those  who  came  after  him.  They 
use  the  speech  pf  the  people,  but  it  is  realistic  speech, 
not  the  re-created  dialect  which  Synge  elaborated. 
As  the  folk-dramatists  differ  from  him  in  this 
respect,  so  they  differ  from  him  in  fundamentals. 
They  have  taken  his  realistic  scenes,  as  they  have 
taken  the  language  of  the  people,  and  set  up  a  frame- 
work of  peasant  drama,  but  they  have  not  filled  it 
with  the  subtle  substance  which  transfigured  the 
work  of  Synge.  We  should  not  expect  them  to  do  so. 
Genius  is  not  added  to  every  talent  which  the 
Dramatic  Movement  has  encouraged.  But  in  J.  M. 
'Synge  the  impulse  of  the  Revival  met  with  the 
response  of  genius.  It  did  not  create  him,  as  it  has 
done  others,  but  it  discovered  in  him  that  spark  of 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         335 

originality  which  eventually  burst  into  the  flame  of 
brilliant  imagination.  In  that  light  he  revealed^ 
Ireland  to  us,  its  beauty  and  its  ugliness;  but  in  so 
doing  he  enabled  us  to  see  beyond  the  limitations  of 
place  and  time  into  the  regions  inhabited  by  the 
eternal  spirit  of  mankind. 


PADRAIC   COLUM 

The  year  which  saw  the  production  of  In  the 
Shadow  of  the  Glen  also  marked  the  entrance  upon 
the  scene  of  the  National  Theatre  of  a  young  play- 
wright whose  originality  entitles  him  to  a  place  in 
its  annals  second  only  to  that  of  Synge.  Padraic 
Colum  was  the  first  of  the  peasant  dramatists,  in  the 
strict  sense  of  the  word;  he  was,  that  is  to  say,  the 
first  to  dramatise  the  realities  of  rural  life  in  Ireland. 
Where  Synge's  fantastic  intuition  divined  human 
prototypes,  Colum's  realistic  insight  revealed  local 
peasant  types,  whose  general  significance  is  subor- 
dinate to  the  immediate  purpose  of  the  dramatist. 
Together  they  define  the  limits  within  which  our 
folk-drama  has  developed,  for  none  of  the  later 
playwrights  has  added  anything  to  the  tradition 
initiated  by  Padraic  Colum  and  J.  M.  Synge.  With 
rare  exceptions,  which  will  be  noticed,  their  successors 
have  failed  to  give  personality  to  their  work,  content- 
ing themselves  with  certain  general  formulae,  whose 
elaboration  leaves  them  as  far  from  the  restraint  of 
Colum  as  from  the  flamboyancy  of  Synge.  For,  it  is 
interesting  to  note,  the  former  dramatist  is  the  direct 
antithesis  of  the  latter,  nor  has  he  been  at  all  influ- 
enced by  him,  in  spite  of  the  disparity  of  their  re- 
spective successes.  Synge's  fame  and  work  made 
resistance  difficult  for  all  but  the  most  original  of  his 
young  contemporaries.  But  Colum  has  remained, 


336   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

at  the  cost  of  popular  recognition,  faithful  to  the  spirit 
of  Broken  Soil,  whose  almost  simultaneous  appear- 
ance with  Synge's  first  play  precluded  any  possi- 
bility of  imitation. 

Broken  Soil,  however,  was  not  the  author's  first 
dramatic  work,  although  it  introduced  him  to  the 
public  in  1903,  under  the  auspices  of  the  recently 
constituted  Irish  National  Theatre  Society.  As  early 
as  1901  Colum  had  come  into  contact  with  the  broth- 
ers Fay,  whose  theatrical  enterprise  previously 
described  had  awakened  in  him  the  desire  to  write 
for  the  stage.  He  became  an  active  member  of  the 
Fays'  group,  taking  part  in  the  production  of  A.  E.'s 
Deirdre  in  1902,  the  year  of  his  first  published  plays, 
The  Kingdom  of  the  Young  and  The  Saxon  Shilling 
the  latter  being  performed,  with  considerable  propa- 
gandist success,  in  1903.  Once  caught  in  the  enthu- 
siasm of  the  Fays  and  their  company,  Colum  wrote 
a  great  deal  of  dramatic  'prentice  work,  which  ap- 
peared, like  the  plays  mentioned,  in  The  United 
Irishman,  that  cradle  of  many  contemporary  Irish 
reputations.  The  Foleys  and  Eoghatfs  Wife  were 
further  essays  of  the  same  kind,  all  leading  in  the 
direction  of  those  studies  of  peasant  Ireland  begin- 
ning with  Broken  Soil,  which  was  followed  by  The 
Land  in  1905,  and  by  Thomas  Muskerry  in  1910. 
Unfortunately,  for  various  reasons,  attributable  in 
part  to  the  nature  of  his  work,  these  three  plays 
are  all  that  we  have  upon  which  to  form  an  estimate 
of  his  achievement.  The  Miracle  of  the  Corn  (1907) 
and  The  Destruction  of  the  Hostel  (1910)  are  trifles 
whose  charm  does  not  alter  the  fact  that  they  are 
but  slightly  more  characteristic  of  the  author  than 
The  Desert  (1912).  It  is  true,  he  is  but  obeying  his 
original  impulse  towards  old  legend  in  dramatising 
the  incident  of  the  destruction  of  the  House  of  Da 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         337 

Derga,  for  his  most  youthful  effort  was  a  play 
founded  on  the  story  of  the  Children  of  Lir,  one  of 
the  tableaux  produced  by  the  brothers  Fay.  In  his 
little  miracle  play  he  is  still  close  to  national  tradi- 
tion, but  the  oriental  setting  of  The  Desert  breaks 
definitely  the  mould  of  his  talent.  It  was  followed, 
however,  by  The  Betrayal,  which  is  again  in  the 
direct  line  of  the  author's  development,  being  a 
dramatisation  of  an  incident  arising  out  of  the 
agrarian  revolt  in  the  closing  years  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Although  successfully  produced  it  has  not 
yet  been  included  among  the  dramatist's  published 
works. 

The  Land,  although  his  second  play,  was  pub- 
lished in  1905  prior  to  Broken  Soil,  which  did  not 
appear  in  book  form  until  its  material  had  been 
recast  as  The  Fiddler's  House,  two  years  later.  It  is 
at  once  more  logical  and  more  significant  that 
Padraic  Colum's  published  writings  should  begin 
with  that  "agrarian  comedy,"  for  there  he  handles 
the  central  and  fundamental  fact  of  peasant  life, 
the  call  of  the  land.  The  struggle  between  town 
and  country  to  hold  the  people,  the  problem  of  rural 
life,  which  is  at  last  receiving  serious  attention,  is 
the  leading  note  of  The  Land.  In  Ireland  it  is 
against  the  attraction  of  the  United  States,  no  less 
than  against  the  lure  of  urban  civilisation,  that  re- 
sistance must  be  strengthened,  and  the  dramatist 
shows  us  the  drain  upon  the  countryside  resulting 
from  the  emigration  of  the  young  and  vigorous. 
The  conflict  between  Matt  Cosgar  and  his  father  is 
not  solved  by  the  final  submission  of  the  old  peasant 
to  his  son's  threat  that  he  will  follow  his  kin  to 
America.  Ellen  Douras,  whose  fancy  is  captivated 
by  the  wondertales  of  American  life,  infects  Matt 
with  her  own  restlessness,  and  they  leave  the  land  to 


338    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Cornelius  and  Sally  and  their  parents.  The  ineffi- 
cient and  the  old  remain,  while  strength  and  enter- 
prise are  exported  for  the  benefit  of  Transatlantic 
industrialism.  The  sadness  and  seriousness  of  the 
familar  situation  are  heightened  by  the  fact  that 
the  action  takes  place  during  the  period  when  the 
hope  of  peasant  ownership  is  at  the  point  of  realisa- 
tion. The  older  men,  who  fought  and  suffered  for 
the  possession  of  the  land,  have  arranged  to  purchase 
their  holdings  under  the  new  Land  Act.  They  are 
full  of  pride  and  joy  at  this  final  recognition  of  their 
savagely  contested  claims. 

With  the  true  sense  of  the  peasant  mind  which 
characterises  him,  Colum  seizes  upon  this  tragedy, 
none  the  less  poignant  because  the  key  is  subdued. 
In  various  ways  he  succeeds  in  bringing  out  the 
revolt  of  the  young  people  against  the  conventions 
and  conditions  of  their  elders.  Matt  Cosgar  will 
not  tolerate  that  implicit  obedience  to  the  father 
which  is  at  the  root  of  the  family  system,  as  prac- 
tised in  France  and  rural  Ireland.  He  rebels  against 
the  law  which  prescribes  that  marriages  must  be 
arranged  by  the  parents  for  financial  considerations, 
without  regard  for  the  wishes  of  the  young  couples 
so  united.  The  picture  is  one  of  peculiar  power: 
the  clash  of  wills  between  two  generations  of  peas- 
antry. Those  who  have  won  the  soil  find  themselves 
abandoned  by  their  children,  who  know  only  the 
hardships  of  the  long  struggle  for  possession,  and  are 
unable  or  unwilling  to  profit  by  the  victory,  which 
means  so  much  to  the  men  who  fought  for  it.  After 
all  the  crime  and  suffering  of  which  the  land  was  the 
occasion,  the  best  energies  of  the  countryside  are  not 
to  be  drawn  upon  for  the  work  of  reconstruction. 
The  dearly-bought  possession  is  left  to  the  feeble, 
while  the  city  and  emigration  absorb  the  strength  of 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         339 

those  to  whom  it  should  have  been  bequeathed. 
The  rural  exodus  is  being  stemmed,  but  the  subject 
of  The  Land  has  lost  little  of  its  interest  for  all  who 
have  a  thought  for  the  future  of  Ireland. 

The  Fiddler's  House  is  a  study  of  another  aspect  of 
peasant  life.  Having  shown  us  the  peasant  face  to 
face  with  the  fundamental  problem  of  his  existence, 
in  his  relation  to  the  land,  the  dramatist  now  portrays 
him  in  his  spiritual  and  artistic  manifestations.  The 
ties  of  the  soil  are,  of  course,  a  part  of  the  drama,  for 
Conn  Hourican  is  the  peasant  as  artist,  and  the 
essential  factor  of  that  condition  is  not  wanting. 
But  while  the  land  hunger  finds  its  expression  in  his 
child  Anne,  the  father  is  primarily  a  study  in  tem- 
perament. The  old  fiddler,  for  all  his  attachment  to 
home,  carries  within  him  the  yearning  for  change  and 
freedom,  the  inability  to  remain  settled,  which  we  asso- 
ciate with  the  nature  of  genius.  The  trait  which  unites 
the  artist  and  the  vagabond  brings  Conn  Hourican 
somewhat  nearer  to  the  symbolic  types  of  Synge  than 
is  usual  with  the  carefully  realised  figures  of  Colum's 
drama.  Hourican  hears  and  obeys  the  call  of  the  road, 
and  it  is  the  same  voice  that  draws  him  as  called  the 
tramps  whom  Synge  reconstructed  out  of  his  Wick- 
low  and  West  Kerry  experiences.  When  the  fiddler 
leaves  his  house  the  words  which  come  to  his  lips 
show  the  same  instinct  for  the  poetry  of  natural 
beauty  as  was  revealed  by  the  blind  beggar  in  The 
Well  of  the  Saints,  when  they  described  their  vision 
of  nature.  Not  that  the  artistic  faculty  of  Conn 
finds  expression  in  the  glowing  phrases  of  Synge's 
fantasy.  Nothing  could  more  beautifully  illustrate 
the  complete  independence  of  Colum  than  his  treat- 
ment of  this  theme.  The  deep  distrust  entertained 
by  respectable  peasants  towards  the  unattached  man 
of  the  roads,  the  concern  of  Conn's  daughters  at  his 


340   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

desire  to  resume  his  vagabondage,  are  the  fitting 
background  against  which  to  set  this  fine  old  figure. 
The  sympathy  and  realism  which  have  gone  to  the 
portrayal  of  Conn  Hourican  make  of  him  the  personi- 
fication of  that  element  of  our  peasant  life  to  which 
folk-art  and  folk-poetry  owe  their  existence  and 
preservation. 

With  the  exception  of  the  specifically  agrarian 
problem,  which  was  the  point  of  departure  of  The 
Land,  there  is  no  question  more  vital  than  the 
patriarchal  family  system  which  obtains  throughout 
rural  Ireland.  In  selecting  this  theme  for  Thomas 
Muskerry  Padraic  Colum  displayed  his  character- 
istic feeling  for  those  situations  and  aspects  of  life 
which  present  themselves  most  readily  to  the  mind 
of  a  people  mainly  composed  of  the  peasant  class. 
The  sacrifice  of  the  individual  to  the  family  unit  is  a 
tradition  preserved  most  carefully  in  the  agricultural 
communities  of  Western  Europe.  In  France  novel- 
ists have  not  been  lacking  to  interpret  this  character- 
istic aspect  of  that  country  of  small  landholders.  It 
is  strange  that  no  writer  of  Irish  fiction  has  given  us 
an  equivalent  to  Henry  Bordeaux's  Les  Roquevillard. 
But  all  through  the  work  of  Colum  the  sense  of 
family  life  is  evident.  We  have  the  problem  sug- 
gested in  The  Land,  where  the  revolt  of  the  younger 
generation  is,  in  part,  accounted  for  by  the  exigencies 
of  paternal  authority.  In  Thomas  Muskerry  the 
full  significance  of  the  system  is  revealed. 

Instead  of  illustrating  his  subject  by  the  elabora- 
tion of  those  hints  at  revolt  which  are  noticeable  in 
the  earlier  plays,  the  dramatist  has  preferred  to 
reverse  the  process.  It  is  not  the  children  who  feel 
the  restraints  of  family  duty,  but  the  old  father, 
Thomas  Muskerry,  who  dies  a  pauper  in  the  work- 
house of  which  he  once  was  master,  after  being 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         341 

cruelly  exploited  by  his  relations.  This  middle-class 
family  in  a  country  town  is  aptly  chosen  for  the 
development  of  such  a  theme.  Being  just  one 
remove  from  the  soil,  they  retain  all  the  worst 
traits  of  their  immediate  peasant  forerunners  and 
serve  best  to  emphasise  the  evils  to  which  the 
exaggerated  sense  of  domestic  obligations  may  lead. 
The  kindness  and  generosity  of  Muskerry  have  for 
years  encouraged  his  children  and  their  dependents 
to  exercise  their  cupidity  and  unscrupulousness  at 
his  expense.  When  they  find  him  no  longer  profit- 
able, they  cease  to  play  upon  the  family  relationship, 
and  frankly  abandon  him,  having  robbed  him  of  his 
good  name,  his  dignity  and  his  money.  The  tragic 
end  of  this  victim  of  the  claims  of  kinship  is  the  cul- 
minating event  in  a  grim  story  of  petty  meannesses 
and  sordid  motives,  all  arising  out  of  the  exploitation 
of  kindness  in  the  name  of  family  solidarity.  There 
are  few  writers  who  have  disclosed  with  such  insight 
the  under-currents  of  existence  in  our  provincial 
towns,  where  the  virtues  of  the  peasant  are  lost  in 
the  indirect  contact  with  the  ambitions  and  practises 
of  urban  civilisation.  Living  on  the  margin,  as  it 
were,  between  the  city  and  the  land  the  people  de- 
velop only  the  inferior  qualities  of  either  life. 

It  would  be  misleading  to  leave  the  dramatic 
work  of  Padraic  Colum  without  making  clear  his 
innocence  of  any  avowedly  didactic  purpose.  A 
brief  analysis  of  his  plays  involves  the  use  of  phrases 
which  are  perhaps  more  convenient  than  accurate. 
The  Land  and  Thomas  Muskerry  envisage  certain 
phases  of  Irish  life  which  constitute  the  "problems" 
of  our  sociologists,  but  the  latter  need  not  suspect 
him  of  any  intention  to  anticipate  their  conclu- 
sions. The  effort  of  the  dramatist  is  not  to  pro- 
pound or  solve  social  questions,  but  is  directed, 


342    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

as  he  says,  "towards  the  creation  of  situations." 
"For  character  conceived  as  a  psychological  syn- 
thesis he  has  only  a  secondary  concern."  In  thus 
defining  the  attitude  of  the  playwright,  Colum 
clearly  demonstrates  the  character  of  his  own  work. 
The  three  plays  that  have  been  mentioned  are 
primarily  attempts  to  situate  the  Irish  peasant 
in  such  circumstances  as  to  bring  out  the  essen- 
tial drama  of  rural  life.  Coming  from  the  Mid- 
lands, and  viewing  the  world  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  peasantry,  he  saw  at  once  the  naturally 
dramatic  situations  in  which  they  revealed  them- 
selves most  characteristically.  These  restrained  and 
faithful  pictures,  from  which  every  exaggerated  or 
adventitious  element  is  eliminated,  have  a  quality 
which  recalls  Ibsen  in  their  almost  purely  intellectual 
action.  Colum  even  avoids  the  melodramatic  de- 
nouements which  the  author  of  Hedda  Gabler  did  not 
disdain. 

In  this  last  respect,  but  in  that  only,  the  later 
peasant  playwrights  approach  more  closely  to  Ibsen. 
The  majority,  indeed,  show  so  marked  an  affection 
for  violent  effects  and  purely  external  drama,  that 
the  local  setting  of  their  work  seems  fortuitous.  The 
drama  of  Padraic  Colum,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
peculiarly  Irish,  and  has  its  very  basis  in  peasant 
conditions.  One  cannot  imagine  Conn  Hourican, 
Murtagh  Cosgar  or  Thomas  Muskerry  transplanted 
to  another  soil,  their  roots  are  too  deep.  Unlike  so 
many  of  their  successors  on  the  stage  of  the  National 
Theatre  they  could  not  develop  just  as  well  in  Lon- 
don, Liverpool  or  New  York.  The  greater  part  of 
our  pseudo  "peasant"  drama  is  merely  melodrama 
with  an  Irish  accent.  The  situations  are  not  inherent 
in,  or  peculiar  to,  our  national  life,  but  are  adapted. 
They  might  serve  equally  as  well  to  illustrate  the 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         343 

tragedy  of  an  English  slum  or  the  dramatic  possibili- 
ties of  popular  politics  in  the  United  States.  Even 
where  the  national  and  literary  quality  of  the  work 
done  by  his  successors  is  beyond  dispute,  the  achieve- 
ment of  Padraic  Colum  only  gains  by  comparison. 
Without  any  predecessors  of  importance,  he  shares 
with  Synge  the  right  to  be  considered  the  most  orig- 
inal of  our  folk-dramatists.  W.  B.  Yeats  has  said 
that  Synge  wrote  of  the  peasant  "as  he  is  to  all  the 
ages;  of  the  folk-imagination  as  it  has  been  shaped 
by  centuries  of  life  among  fields  or  on  fishing 
grounds."  If  it  be  admitted  that,  in  this  manner, 
Synge  transcended  the  limits  popularly  ascribed  to 
the  peasant  play,  then,  indeed,  Padraic  Colum  is  the 
first  of  our  peasant  playwrights.  By  confining  him- 
self to  the  realistic  interpretation  of  everyday  coun- 
try life  he  gives  us  the  complement  of  Synge's  trans- 
mutations. Together  their  work  completes,  as  it 
initiated,  the  dramatic  realisation  of  peasant  Ireland. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT:  THIRD 
PHASE 

POPULARITY  AND  ITS  RESULTS:  "ABBEY"  PLAYS  AND 
PLAYWRIGHTS.  THE  ULSTER  LITERARY  THEATRE  : 
RUTHERFORD  MAYNE 

A  DEFINITE  stage  in  the  history  of  the 
Irish  Theatre  was  marked  by  the  perform- 
ance of  The  Playboy  of  the  Western  World 
in  1907.  The  effect  of  the  storm  which 
centred  about  Synge  was  to  bring  the  Theatre  no- 
toriety, fame  and,  finally,  popular  success.  As  a 
result  of  this  sudden  change  of  fortune,  a  host  of 
young  dramatists  came  forward,  some  possessed  by 
real  talent,  others  attracted  by  the  popularity  of  the 
Abbey  Theatre.  Almost  all  the  names  prominently 
identified  with  that  institution  in  recent  years  are 
those  of  playwrights  who  came  in  on  the  wave  of 
success,  after  1907.  Those  who  helped  to  lay  the 
foundations  of  that  success  have  either  ceased  to 
figure  on  the  programme  of  the  Theatre,  or  their  work 
has  been  performed  at  such  rare  intervals  as  to  con- 
fine their  public  chiefly  to  the  printed  book,  whenever 
the  plays  were  available  in  that  form.  It  is  true  a 
fairly  constant  effort  has  been  made  to  keep  the 
work  of  Yeats  and  Synge  before  the  public,  but  the 
number  of  such  performances  is  not  commensurate 
with  the  importance  of  these  writers.  Later  dram- 
atists of  much  inferior  quality  have  come  to  domi- 

344 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         345 

nate  the  scene,  at  the  expense  of  their  more  serious 
predecessors.  Of  the  latter,  only  two  have  suc- 
ceeded in  holding  popular  attention  to  the  same 
degree  as  the  newcomers,  probably  because  of  their 
closer  affinity.  Lady  Gregory  and  William  Boyle 
may,  for  that  reason,  be  classed  with  the  later  play- 
wrights, rather  than  with  the  initiators  of  the 
Revival,  although  they  have  been  associated  with 
the  National  Theatre  since  an  early  date. 

,LADY   GREGORY   AND    WILLIAM    BOYLE 

Lady  Gregory's  share  in  the  Dramatic  Movement 
has  been  adequately  noticed  by  the  various  critics 
who  have  written  the  history  of  the  Irish  Theatre, 
and  her  own  volume  of  reminiscences  has  served  to 
complete  the  record.  It  is,  therefore,  only  neces- 
sary to  consider  her  work  in  so  far  as  it  concerns  the 
literary  history  of  the  Revival.  She  has  contributed 
more  extensively  to  the  repertoire  of  the  Abbey 
Theatre  than  any  other  playwright,  and  since  1903, 
when  her  first  play,  Twenty-Five,  was  produced,  up 
to  the  present  time,  her  twenty,  or  more,  comedies 
and  dramas  have  been  constantly  performed,  to  the 
evident  satisfaction  of  the  general  public.  She  has 
been  the  faithful  coadjutor  of  W.  B.  Yeats  from  the 
time  when  she  was  appointed  to  control  the  policy 
of  the  National  Theatre,  and  the  practical  value  of 
her  services  has  been  widely  recognised  and  acknowl- 
edged. Reference  has  already  been  made  to  the 
collaboration  of  Lady  Gregory  in  certain  of  Yeats's 
plays,  notably  in  The  Unicorn  from  the  Stars,  which 
was  published  over  their  joint  names.  To  this 
volume  may  be  added  the  collection,  Seven  Short 
Plays  (1908),  The  Image  (1910),  two  volumes  of 
Irish  Folk  History  Plays  (1912),  and  New  Comedies 
(1913) — these  represent  the  greater  part  of  her 


346   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

original  contributions  to  the  Irish  Theatre.  She  has 
published  some  of  her  translations  from  the  Gaelic  of 
Douglas  Hyde  in  parallel  editions  of  the  latter's  work, 
and  The  Kiltartan  Moliere  (1910),  peasant  dialect  ver- 
sions of  Le  Medecin  Malgre  lui,  Les  Fourberies  de 
Scapin  and  UAvare.  The  latter  have  enjoyed  a 
success  which  might  not  have  been  predicted  of  so 
daring  an  experiment,  but  these  translations  bear  a 
remarkable  affinity  to  the  original.  Lady  Gregory 
has  preserved  much  that  must  have  evaporated  had 
she  employed  the  formal  English  of  modern  times. 
The  nearest  English  to  that  of  Moliere's  century  is 
the  idiom  of  peasant  Ireland.  The  delight  of  her 
audiences  was  sufficient  proof  of  Lady  Gregory's 
superiority  over  the  conventional  translators  of 
French  classics.  The  Kiltartan  Moliere  is  an  illus- 
tration of  the  real  nature  of  her  talent,  which  has 
been  so  happily  exercised  in  translation. 

Twenty-Five,  the  crude,  amateurish,  little  drama 
with  which  Lady  Gregory  began  her  career  as  a 
dramatist,  does  not  find  a  place  amongst  her  collected 
plays,  whereas  its  immediate  successor,  Spreading 
the  News,  was  one  of  the  first  to  be  published.  This 
farcical  comedy  in  one  act  has  lost  none  of  its  popu- 
larity since  its  production  in  1904,  and  has  been  con- 
stantly seen  at  the  Abbey  Theatre  and  elsewhere. 
Having  found  favour  so  early  and  so  permanently, 
it  may  fairly  serve  as  the  prototype  of  the  long  series 
of  similar  farces  which  are  collected  into  the  two 
volumes,  Seven  Short  Plays  and  New  Comedies. 
Starting  with  some  utterly  absurd  incident, — the  dis- 
tortion of  an  innocent  statement  by  village  gossips 
in  Spreading  the  News, — Lady  Gregory  infuses  a 
wildly  humorous  spirit  into  the  complications  which 
ensue.  The  humour  is  always  sharpened  by  the 
droll  conversation  and  idiom  in  which  it  is  clothed. 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         347 

Frequently,  indeed,  the  fun  depends  almost  entirely 
upon  the  language  and  mimicry  of  the  actors.  Noth- 
ing she  has  written  can  vie  with  The  Workhouse  Ward 
as  a  source  of  laughter,  and  this  is  a  comedy  of  words 
pure  and  simple.  The  exchange  of  flattery  and  abuse 
between  the  two  old  paupers  as  they  lie  in  bed,  their 
final  and  utterly  unexpected  refusal  to  be  separated 
—of  such  characteristically  simple  elements  are  Lady 
Gregory's  best  comedies  composed.  Their  weakness 
is,  therefore,  obvious.  They  are  evidently  written 
for  the  school  of  acting  which  performed  them,  they 
count  in  advance  upon  certain  histrionic  talents  to 
create  the  comedy,  and  they  are  condemned  to 
repeat  themselves.  Consequently,  Lady  Gregory's 
printed  plays  are  of  slight  interest,  except  to  those 
who  have  seen  them  acted,  and,  above  all,  they 
show  no  progress.  New  Comedies  contains  nothing 
that  was  not  in  Spreading  the  News  or  Hyacinth  Hal- 
vey,  the  first  two  of  their  kind.  In  The  Image,  the 
longest  comedy  Lady  Gregory  has  written,  the 
attempt  to  strike  out  in  a  new  direction  is  frustrated 
by  the  fact  that  the  subject  does  not  lend  itself  to 
three  acts,  being  of  the  same  tenuous,  farcical  mate- 
rial as  the  one-act  comedies, — which  she  now  de- 
scribes as  farces,  it  is  interesting  to  note. 

In  addition  to  broad  farce  Lady  Gregory  has 
written  six  "Folk  History  Plays,"  where  melodrama, 
as  in  Kincora,  and  comedy,  as  in  The  White  Cockade 
and  The  Canavans,  are  the  result  of  an  innovation 
in  the  writing  of  historical  drama.  It  is  the  author's 
purpose  to  make  Irish  history  live  in  the  popular 
imagination  by  interpreting  legends  and  events  in 
terms  allied  to  those  of  the  folk-play.  From  the 
beginning  Lady  Gregory  made  use  of  the  Anglo- 
Irish  idiom  which  she  has  termed  "Kiltartan,"  after 
the  district  in  which  she  heard  it  spoken,  and  its  more 


348    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

obvious  quaintness  has  given  a  special  claim  to  her 
comedies.  She  did  not  secure  the  beautiful  effects 
of  Synge;  his  ear  for  the  harmonies  of  language  and 
his  sense  of  poetic  and  dramatic  style  were  part  of 
his  genius.  But  the  Kiltartan  dialect  employed  by 
Lady  Gregory  is  a  more  faithful  transcript  of  actual 
peasant  speech,  and,  without  being  subjected  to  the 
selective  and  combinative  process  of  a  sensitive 
imagination,  it  has  a  natural  savour  which  makes  its 
use  in  comedy  highly  effective.  Its  application, 
however,  to  these  "Folk  History  Plays"  is  far  less 
successful,  especially  as  comparison  with  Synge's 
Deirdre  is  at  once  suggested.  Deirdre  is  a  real  folk- 
history  play,  with  all  the  qualities  of  poetic  tragedy 
bathed  in  the  atmosphere  and  language  of  a  folk- 
tale. In  Crania  Lady  Gregory  has  caught  some- 
thing of  Synge's  rhythm  and  simple  grandeur,  and 
this  tragedy  stands  out  in  contrast  with  the  other 
plays  of  the  group.  But  the  genre  is  alien  to  her 
talent,  and  although  credit  must  be  given  for  her 
isolated  treatment  of  the  strangely  neglected  Grania 
story,  her  success  lies  elsewhere.  The  one-act  form 
seems  to  be  prescribed  for  her,  whether  in  comedy  or 
tragedy.  The  Gaol  Gate,  for  example,  is  a  poignant 
little  play,  in  which  the  tragic  note  is  clearer  than  in 
any  of  the  more  pretentious  dramas.  Lady  Gregory 
has  herself  hinted  at  the  exigencies  of  practical 
theatre  management  as  the  reason  for  her  frequent 
contributions  to  the  stage.  She  wrote  to  meet  the 
need  for  one-act  plays  created  by  the  conditions  of  the 
Irish  theatre.  Inevitably  she  has  had  to  repeat  the 
methods  which  had  proved  successful.  But  she  has 
given  us  a  sufficient  number  of  well-written,  diverting 
comedies  to  entitle  her  to  a  claim  upon  our  remem- 
brance, apart  from  her  directorial  assistance  in  the 
work  of  the  Abbey  Theatre. 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT 


349 


Except  that  William  Boyle's  plays  for  the  Irish 
Theatre  are  in  three  or  four  acts  they  do  not  differ 
essentially  from  those  of  Lady  Gregory.  But  Kil- 
tartan  speech  does  not  enter  into  their  composition, 
so  they  are  deprived  of  one  of  Lady  Gregory's 
sources  of  humour  and  literary  charm.  This  being 
true  of  the  rank  and  file  of  "Abbey"  playwrights, 
the  author  is  more  akin  to  them  than  to  her,  and  the 
fact  explains  their  inferiority.  William  Boyle  had 
published  a  book  of  peasant  sketches,  A  Kish  of 
Brogues,  six  years  before  The  Building  Fund  an- 
nounced his  adherence  to  the  Dramatic  Movement 
in  1905.  He  came  forward,  therefore,  armed  with 
his  experiences  as  a  story-teller,  and  with  a  certain 
preconception  of  the  way  in  which  the  comedy  of 
rural  Irish  manners  should  be  presented.  His  first 
play  was  cast  in  the  same  setting  as  had  provided 
the  material  for  A  Kish  of  Brogues,  and  the  peasantry 
of  County  Louth  are  believable  human  beings,  as 
he  portrays  them.  But  very  soon  it  became  evident 
that  the  author  preferred  to  work  from  the  machine- 
made  pattern  rather  than  from  life.  Perhaps  the 
effort  of  attempting  to  express  himself  in  a  new 
medium  upon  a  familiar  theme  stimulated  his  imag- 
ination at  the  beginning,  for  The  Building  Fund  has 
remained  unequalled  by  the  plays  which  followed  it. 

The  Eloquent  Dempsey  (1906)  is  merely  grotesque 
farce,  and  has  no  more  bearing  upon  life  than  The 
Private  Secretary  or  General  John  Regan.  The  same 
is  true  of  Family  Failing,  the  most  recent  comedy  by 
William  Boyle,  which  suggests  that  no  development 
may  be  expected  of  such  art  as  his.  The  Mineral 
Workers,  which  was  produced  shortly  after  The  Elo- 
quent Dempsey,  had  more  serious  intentions,  but  the 
multiplicity  of  persons  and  motives  got  beyond 
the  author's  control,  to  the  defeat  of  his  purpose. 


350   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

The  clash  of  modern  methods  and  ideas,  personified 
by  a  returned  Irish-American  engineer,  with  the 
ignorance  and  conservatism  of  the  peasantry,  whose 
land  he  wishes  to  mine,  would  have  made  an  excel- 
lent study,  but  the  practical  success  of  the  plays  has 
been  as  farcical  comedy.  Next  to  Lady  Gregory, 
the  most  popular  writer  of  farce  has  been  William 
Boyle.  Yet  The  Building  Fund  showed  that  the 
dramatist  could  evoke  laughter  by  characterisation, 
instead  of  caricature.  Unfortunately  he  has  shown 
no  tendency  to  make  his  success  of  1905  a  point  of 
progressive  departure.  He  has  moved  further  and 
further  in  the  opposite  direction,  obtaining  applause 
as  a  purveyor  of  facile  amusement. 

The  year  1908  was  marked  by  the  appearance  of 
several  new  playwrights  whose  work  expressed  the 
changed  condition  in  which  the  Abbey  Theatre 
found  itself.  Its  public  had  been  widened  by  the 
notoriety  and  sympathy  which  were  the  immediate 
consequence  of  the  Synge  controversies,  and  this 
wider  audience  could  not  be  reached  without  the 
sacrifice  of  many  ideals  and  principles.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  reconcile  the  artistic  programme  which  Yeats 
had  defined  in  the  early  issues  of  Samhain  with  the 
evolution  of  the  Irish  Theatre  from  this  point  on- 
wards, and,  by  a  significant  coincidence,  that  review 
ceased  to  exist  in  1908.  Of  course,  by  this  time  the 
Theatre  had  become  so  well  known  that  the  necessity 
for  a  special  propagandist  organ  like  Samhain  had 
lost  its  original  justification.  But  those  pages  of 
doctrine  and  practice  were  never  more  precious  than 
in  recent  years,  when  they  seemed  a  bulwark  against 
the  rising  tide  of  commercialism.  It  is  regrettable 
that  they  should  have  disappeared  just  when  all 
that  they  stood  for  was  being  undermined  by  conces- 
sions to  "popular"  audiences  and  "practical"  ad- 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         351 

vice.  While  W.  B.  Yeats  adhered  personally  to  the 
principles  whose  lofty  idealism  inspired  the  Dra- 
matic Movement,  the  policy  of  the  Theatre  was  gov- 
erned by  considerations  which  had  again  and  again 
been  repudiated  by  him  in  Samhain  and  elsewhere. 
It  would  appear  as  if  the  fight  on  behalf  of  The  Play- 
boy had  exhausted  the  power  of  resistance  which  had 
kept  the  Theatre  free  from  the  pressure  of  financial 
and  commercial  wisdom. 

Impressed  by  the  reception  accorded  to  Synge,  and 
conscious  of  the  ready  hearing  to  be  obtained  by  the 
playwright  who  could  cater  to  the  newly-found  taste 
for  peasant  drama,  numerous  young  writers  awoke 
to  find  themselves  dramatists.  With  neither  the 
poetic  genius  of  Synge,  nor  the  psychological  insight 
of  Colum,  they  adopted  a  combination  of  the  external 
features  of  both  these  dramatists'  work.  Naturally 
they  could  imitate  only  the  more  obvious  and  unes- 
sential elements.  Synge's  occasional  violence  of 
language,  for  example,  becomes  a  regular  part  of  the 
stereotyped  peasant  play,  while  Colum's  quiet  real- 
ism is  transformed  into  sordid  melodrama.  Murder, 
drunkenness  and  crime  are  the  favourite  themes,  and 
the  playwrights  combine  the  incidents  with  so  care- 
ful a  regard  for  the  formulae,  that  their  work  is 
almost  indistinguishable.  The  language  and  setting 
are  also  prescribed  by  rule,  and  the  reign  of  the 
fashionable  folk-drama  is  inaugurated.  In  the  course 
of  time  tours  in  England  and  the  United  States  are 
found  to  be  profitable  undertakings,  they  become 
more  and  more  frequent,  the  plays  produced  conform 
more  and  more*  to  type,  until  finally  the  sole  criterion 
of  success  is  financial.  The  day-book  and  ledger 
replace  Beltaine  and  Samhain  as  the  organs  of  the 
National  Theatre;  the  farces  of  William  Boyle  and 
the  melodramas  of  W.  F.  Casey  or  T.  C.  Murray 


352   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

are  substituted  for  the  "unprofitable"  plays  of  W.  B. 
Yeats  or  Padraic  Colum. 

There  is  no  reason  why  Ireland  should  not  hear 
her  voice  speak  in  melodramatic  tones,  and  the  intro- 
duction of  popular  drama  and  comedy  with  the  famil- 
iar accent  of  our  own  people  is  doubtless  an  improve- 
ment upon  the  imported  article.  The  authors  of 
The  Man  who  missed  the  Tide,  The  Cross  Roads  and 
The  White  Feather  have  clearly  demonstrated  the 
possibility  of  successfully  challenging  the  English 
monopoly  of  melodrama.  It  is  no  longer  necessary 
to  allow  one's  feelings  to  be  harrowed  simultaneously 
by  the  pronunciation  and  adventures  of  heroines  and 
heroes  from  Camberwell  or  Fulham.  Until  the  Abbey 
Theatre  entered  upon  this  latest  phase,  we  were 
obliged  to  submit,  when  patriotic,  to  the  tears  and 
laughter  of  Boucicault,  or  when  more  emotionally 
inclined,  to  his  English  equivalents.  Moreover,  our 
Irish  melodramatists  are,  in  the  main,  less  conven- 
tional than  the  imported  variety,  or  perhaps  it  would 
be  more  correct  to  say,  they  are  followers  of  newer 
conventions.  The  happy  ending,  the  monologue, 
and  the  beautiful,  yet  virtuous,  heroine  are  elimi- 
nated, in  favour  of  more  home-like  virtues.  Political 
feuds,  family  rivalries  and  the  failure  of  idealists— 
these  are  the  substitutes  more  in  keeping  with  the 
external  facts  of  Irish  life.  Mr.  Walter  Melville's 
wayward  damsels  might  have  referred  to  the  "  dread- 
ful splendid  life  of  the  great  city,"  as  does  the  girl 
in  S.  L.  Robinson's  Harvest,  but  these  are  only  occa- 
sional lapses.  The  same  writer's  first  play,  The 
Clancy  Name,  is  more  typical,  white  Patriots  and 
The  Dreamers  prove  that  he  is  capable  of  rising  above 
that  level.  In  the  former  he  has  depicted  the 
dramatic  change  which  separates  two  political  gen- 
erations in  Ireland,  a  change  so  profound  as  to  render 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         353 

almost  incredible  The  Dreamers,  when  this  handling 
of  Robert  Emmet's  story  is  compared  with  the  con- 
ventional, Boucicaultian  treatment  of  historic  sub- 
jects. 

Peasant  melodrama  is,  therefore,  as  natural  an 
offshoot  of  the  Revival  as  the  "folk  history  plays" 
of  Lady  Gregory.  It  becomes  the  occasion  of  cen- 
sure only  when  we  find  that  it  is  usurping  the  place 
of  the  dramatic  literature  which  the  Irish  Theatre 
set  out  to  foster.  The  plays  of  T.  C.  Murray,  S.  L. 
Robinson,  and  others,  are  the  too  frequent  rivals  of 
the  still  more  frequently  performed  comedies  of  Lady 
Gregory  and  William  Boyle,  in  the  Abbey  Theatre's 
bid  for  popularity.  The  last  two  writers  are  un- 
doubtedly the  authentic  forerunners  of  these  later 
playwrights,  in  so  far  as  they  have  consistently  ap- 
pealed to  the  same  taste.  The  grotesque  idiots  of 
the  comic  dramatists  are  the  humorous  counter- 
parts of  the  violent  brutes  who  curse  and  fight  their 
way  through  the  scenes  of  rural  melodrama.  The 
fact  that  such  plays  are  profitable  cannot  justify 
their  being  produced  almost  to  the  exclusion  of 
others,  unless  the  defeat  of  the  purpose  of  the 
National  Theatre  be  admitted.  The  standard  of 
achievement  is  lowered,  so  that  writers  of  merit 
either  become  corrupted,  or  resign  themselves  to 
practical  oblivion.  Apart  from  the  names  which 
have  never  appeared  on  the  programme  of  the 
Theatre  since  1907,  there  are  several  dramatists  of 
obvious  talent  who  are  neglected,  and  deprived 
either  of  the  opportunity  or  the  ambition  to  supple- 
ment their  first  efforts.  Consequently,  it  happens 
from  time  to  time  that  playwrights  who  are  unable 
to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  commercial  theatre 
address  themselves  elsewhere.  Thus  we  find  that 
the  Abbey  Theatre  is  failing  to  fulfil  its  original 


354    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

destiny,    namely,    to   encourage   the   production   of 
plays  not  susceptible  of  commercial  exploitation. 


SEUMAS  O'KELLY 


The  case  of  Seumas  O'Kelly  affords  a  not  too  un- 
favourable illustration  of  this  tendency,  inasmuch  as 
he  has  not  been  definitely  excluded  from  the  National 
Theatre,  but  was  admitted  after  he  had  proved  the 
quality  of  his  work  elsewhere.  The  Shutter's  Child 
was  produced  in  1909  by  the  company  of  amateurs 
known  as  the  "Theatre  of  Ireland,"  which  had  pre- 
viously performed  the  two  less  remarkable  plays  of 
his  debut.  It  was  not  until  eighteen  months  later 
that  the  merit  of  The  Shutter's  Child, — which  had 
meanwhile  been  published, — was  formally  recognised 
by  the  directors  of  the  National  Theatre,  where  it  is 
occasionally  produced.  Of  recent  peasant  plays 
this  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable,  by  reason  of  its 
originality  in  the  treatment  of  a  subject  apt  to  degen- 
erate into  cliches  and  melodrama.  Avoiding  high- 
strung  violence,  the  dramatist  has  put  a  wild  inten- 
sity into  this  story  of  the  sacrifice  made  by  a  tramp 
woman  who  overcomes  her  desire  to  claim  the  child 
she  once  deserted.  When  she  sees  her  little  son 
thriving  in  the  care  of  his  adopted  parents  she  recog- 
nises that  his  advantage  lies  in  her  renunciation. 
The  portrayal  of  this  struggle,  and  the  characterisa- 
tion of  the  vagabond,  in  whose  heart  the  emotion  of 
maternity  is  turned  to  something  fierce  and  lawless 
as  her  own  life,  are  admirable.  Powerful  also  is  the 
suggestion  of  two  contrasted  states  of  society,  per- 
sonified in  the  wild,  instinctive  woman  of  the  roads 
and  the  peaceful  affection  of  the  foster  parents  in 
their  prosperous  farm  home.  A  denouement  as  ef- 
fective as  it  is  natural  is  the  flight  of  the  woman  at 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         355 

the  threat  of  the  law  to  imprison  her  for  deserting 
her  child,  when  she  had  made  the  supreme  sacrifice 
for  her  boy's  welfare. 

In  spite  of  the  need  for  one-act  plays  at  the  Abbey 
Theatre,  explained  by  Lady  Gregory  by  way  of 
apology  for  her  own  efforts,  The  Matchmakers,  The 
Stranger  and  The  Homecoming  have  been  performed 
only  by  amateurs,  the  two  first  mentioned  having 
preceded  The  Shutter's  Child,  the  other  having  fol- 
lowed it.  They  appeared  in  a  volume  entitled  Three 
Plays,  in  1912.  Although  not  to  be  classed  with  the 
longer  play,  all  three  are  free  from  any  defect  which 
would  explain  their  exclusion  as  unfit  to  rank  with 
the  average  comedy  or  one-act  drama  of  the  Abbey 
Theatre  to-day.  They  may  be  cited,  therefore,  as 
instances  of  the  increasing  failure  of  the  National 
Theatre  to  respond  to  the  contemporary  dramatic 
movement.  The  condition  of  proving  oneself  a  good 
investment  has  resulted  in  a  certain  diversion  of  lit- 
erary activity  into  channels  undisturbed  by  the  pre- 
occupations of  commerce.  At  the  end  of  1913,  how- 
ever, a  second  play  by  Seumas  O'Kelly  was  produced 
on  the  scene  of  his  former  success.  Significantly,  as 
we  shall  see,  it  is  here  that  he  shows  signs  of  con- 
forming to  the  popular  standard  of  "Abbey"  melo- 
drama. 

The  Bribe,  published  in  1914,  is  a  belated,  if  not 
unworthy,  successor  to  The  Shutter's  Child,  in  the 
repertoire  of  the  National  Theatre.  On  that  account 
the  three  years  which  separate  their  production  may 
perhaps  be  excused,  although  so  promising  a  drama- 
tist would  seem  entitled  to  more  prominence  than 
the  facts  indicate.  For  the  first  time  in  many  years 
domestic  politics  supplies  the  material  of  an  inter- 
esting drama.  The  Irish  Literary  Theatre  had  seen 
George  Moore's  The  Bending  of  the  Bough  and  Ed- 


356    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

ward  Martyn's  Tale  of  a  Town,  and  the  Irish  National 
Dramatic  Company  performed  The  Laying  of  the 
Foundations,  a  municipal  satire  by  Fred  Ryan,  in 
1902,  but  since  that  time  the  theme  has  received  no 
more  consideration  than  is  implied  by  the  burlesque 
caricature  of  The  Eloquent  Dempsey,  or  the  equally 
unreal  seriousness  of  R.  J.  Ray's  The  Gombeen  Man 
(1913).  In  The  Bribe  the  author  has  chosen  one  of 
the  most  discreditable  features  of  rural  politics  in 
Ireland,  the  corruption  which  characterises  the 
making  of  public  appointments.  The  tragic  conse- 
quences of  the  election  of  an  incompetent  dispensary 
doctor  is  perhaps  a  little  forced,  and  gives  a  melo- 
dramatic violence  to  the  climax,  but  the  exposition 
of  motives  and  the  picture  of  provincial  manners  are 
so  skilful  as  to  enable  one  to  discount  this  fault.  It 
is  worthy  of  comment  that  this  feature  should  dis- 
figure the  only  play  by  Seumas  O'Kelly  for  which 
the  National  Theatre  is  directly  sponsor.  When  one 
recalls  The  Shutter's  Child  one  is  inclined  to  ask  if 
this  is  not  a  case  of  evil  communication  having  cor- 
rupted good  dramatic  manners.  But  the  talent  of 
this  author  is  sufficiently  personal  to  preserve  him 
from  losing  his  identity  in  the  homogeneous  ranks  of 
the  popular  melodramatists. 

GEORGE    FITZMAURICE 

A  revival  performance  of  The  Country  Dressmaker 
in  1912  drew  attention  to  a  young  dramatist  who  had 
been  almost  forgotten  during  the  five  years  which  had 
elapsed  since  the  first  production  of  that  play. 
George  Fitzmaurice  belongs  to  that  neglected  cate- 
gory of  Irish  playwrights  whose  work  has  been  over- 
shadowed by  the  popular  successes  of  the  new- 
comers to  the  Movement.  The  Country  Dressmaker 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         357 

dates  from  the  same  year  as  The  Playboy,  having 
followed  it  in  1907,  while  the  little  "one-acter," 
The  Piedish,  was  performed  early  in  1908,  prior  to  the 
accession  of  the  imitative  school  of  peasant  drama. 
George  Fitzmaurice  is,  therefore,  the  legitimate  suc- 
cessor of  Synge  and  Colum  amongst  the  serious  expo- 
nents of  folk-play,  although  he  has  had  to  wait  long 
for  recognition.  Rarely  performed,  his  work  was  not 
published  until  1914  when  The  Country  Dressmaker 
appeared,  to  be  followed  shortly  by  Five  Plays,  a 
volume  in  which  all  that  he  cares  to  submit  for  criti- 
cism has  been  collected.  In  addition  to  the  two  plays 
mentioned,  he  has  added  The  Moonlighter,  The  Magic 
Glasses  and  The  Dandy  Dolls,  making  this  book  the 
most  striking  contribution  to  our  dramatic  literature 
since  the  death  of  Synge. 

A  noticeable  feature  of  Fitzmaurice's  work  is  the 
evident  development  of  his  talent  between  1907  and 
1914.  His  first  play  does  not,  as  is  so  often  the  case, 
represent  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  the  dramatist. 
Although  he  gave  unmistakable  indications  of  an 
original  quality  in  his  presentation  of  peasant 
comedy,  The  Country  Dressmaker  was  marred  by 
that  gross  exaggeration,  amounting  to  caricature, 
which  makes  so  many  of  our  comedies  degenerate 
into  farce.  The  influences  doubtless  responsible  for 
this  blemish  have  been  referred  to,  but  while  they 
might  betray  the  author  at  times,  he  could  not  write 
so  as  to  be  confounded  with  them.  The  delineation 
of  character  in  this  story  of  match-making  intrigue, 
with  its  central  figure,  the  romantic  novelette-reading 
dressmaker,  places  George  Fitzmaurice  apart  from 
the  average  writer  of  farce.  The  temptation  to 
overemphasise  the  part  of  the  dressmaker  could  not 
have  been  resisted  by  an  author  intent  merely  on 
raising  a  laugh  by  any  species  of  buffoonery  or  horse- 


358    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

play.  Avoiding  the  obvious,  the  dramatist  depict* 
an  effective  study  of  a  woman  whose  life  has  been 
largely  moulded  by  the  romance  of  cheap  fiction, 
but  who  is  extraordinarily  natural  and  dignified  in 
her  sober  translation  of  the  fictitious  into  reality. 
With  the  exception  of  one  caricatural  effort,  the  char- 
acters are  intensely  true  to  human  nature  in  general, 
and  to  rural  Ireland  in  particular,  and  their  language 
is  a  perfect  expression  of  themselves.  At  this  date 
it  was  already  evident  that  George  Fitzmaurice  had 
a  keen  sense  of  the  value  of  Anglo-Irish  idiom  as  a 
literary  medium. 

The  Piedish  (1908),  though  a  trifle,  contained  fur- 
ther evidence  of  promise,  both  in  its  use  of  peasant- 
speech  and  in  its  choice  and  treatment  of  a  theme 
by  no  means  sure  of  popular  comprehension.  The 
unintelligent  laughter  which  greeted  this  fable  of  the 
dying  old  man,  whose  soul  is  concentrated  upon  his 
artistic  purpose,  cannot  do  the  author  an  injustice, 
now  that  the  printed  text  is  available.  But  until 
recently  he  has  had  to  suffer  the  penalty  of  hearing 
the  play  misrepresented  by  those  who  could  see  only 
the  grotesque  aspect  of  the  old  modeller's  anxiety 
to  complete  the  piedish  before  he  dies.  Accustomed 
to  the  farcical  entertainment  so  frequently  provided, 
audiences  had  gathered  who  were  unable  to  appreci- 
ate this  exposition  in  terms  of  folk-drama  of  the 
familiar  struggle  between  the  Paganism  of  the  artist 
and  the  conventions  of  Christianity.  Resting  upon 
misapprehension,  The  Piedish  could  not,  for  several 
years,  help  in  any  way  to  extend  the  author's  repu- 
tation, and  became  simply  an  obstacle  to  his  success. 
In  this  way,  the  declining  standard  of  taste  encour- 
aged by  the  Abbey  Theatre  has  worked  for  the  ruin 
of  the  Dramatic  Movement,  excluding  some  of  the 
best  short  plays  in  the  repertoire,  and  retarding  the 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         359 

progress  of  original  writers.  At  the  lowest  estimate 
both  The  Piedish  and  its  predecessor  deserved  to  be 
as  well  known  as  the  works  to  which  preference  in 
recent  years  has  been  given. 

The  longest  play  which  George  Fitzmaurice  has 
written  is  The  Moonlighter,  whose  four  acts  approxi- 
mate, more  closely  than  usual  with  him,  to  the 
accepted  notion  of  Irish  peasant  drama.  The  title 
itself  indicates  the  nature  of  the  play,  which  is  set  in 
the  stormy  period  of  the  agrarian  agitation.  There 
are  many  characters  and  incidents  of  the  type  now 
familiar,  the  loud-mouthed  violent  heroes  of  rural 
melodrama,  but  again,  the  fine  portrayal  of  the  chief 
figures  gives  distinction  to  the  play.  The  Fenian 
father  whose  blood  has  cooled,  but  whose  son  essays 
in  theory  to  emulate  him,  only  to  abandon  enthu- 
siasm when  physical  danger  is  near;  the  hostility  of 
the  man  of  action  to  the  young  generation  so  full  of 
words ;  and  the  final  outburst  of  the  old  Fenian  spirit, 
when  these  words  become  deeds  with  their  inevitable 
sequence  of  brutality — these  are  the  elements  of 
which  excellent  drama  is  made.  The  presence  of 
some  stock  figures  of  the  "Abbey  convention"  is  for- 
gotten in  the  pleasure  of  observing  the  evolution  of 
several  wonderfully  conceived  types  of  Irish  peasant. 

The  increasing  mastery  of  Anglo-Irish  idiom  no- 
ticeable in  the  plays  of  George  Fitzmaurice  finds  its 
consummation  in  The  Magic  Glasses  and  The  Dandy 
Dolls.  Both  are  in  one  act,  and  have  neither  the 
plot  nor  the  substance  which  would  justify  detailed 
exposition.  The  Magic  Glasses  is  situated  professedly 
in  some  region  subject  to  the  laws  of  time  and  space, 
whereas  The  Dandy  Dolls  is  a  fantasmagoria  pure  and 
simple.  But  the  two  plays  are  essentially  works  of 
fantastic  imagination,  in  which  exuberant  fancy  is 
reflected  in  language  of  the  same  vigorous  brilliance 


360   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

and  superb  colour  as  are  found  in  Synge.  Yet  there 
is  no  pastiche  of  The  Playboy  in  either.  Except  that 
both  writers  use  the  same  instrument,  the  Gaelicised 
English  of  the  West,  they  are  dissimilar.  The  poetry 
of  Synge  hardly  finds  expression  in  these  wildly 
humorous  passages,  where  sentiment  gives  way  to 
action.  Fitzmaurice,  however,  shows  the  delight  of 
the  artist  in  the  effects  which  may  be  obtained  from 
the  verbal  wealth  of  the  Anglo-Irish  idiom,  he  has  a 
sharp  ear  for  those  words  and  phrases  which  stimu- 
late the  intellectual  palate  by  their  savour  and 
strength.  There  is  something  unreal  in  this  dialecti- 
cal imagery  which  accords  perfectly  with  the  strange, 
exotic  world  of  which  we  get  a  glimpse.  The  doll- 
maker,  who  fears  that  "the  Hag's  son"  will  again  steal 
the  windpipe  from  the  throat  of  his  creations,  is  of 
the  same  race  as  the  family  who  consult  the  doctor 
of  magic  that  he  may  cure  their  son  of  his  propensity 
for  fairy  music.  These  are  all  creatures  of  imagina- 
tion, and  we  must  greet  them  as  we  greeted  the 
Trolds  in  Peer  Gynt,  of  whose  adventures,  it  may  be 
said,  The  Dandy  Dolls  reminds  us.  With  his  extra- 
ordinary power  of  fantasy  and  grotesque  vision, 
George  Fitzmaurice  may  some  day  give  us  an  Irish 
counterpart  of  the  great  Norwegian  romance.  He 
has  proved,  at  least,  that  he  possesses  precisely  that 
imaginative  quality  which,  superadded  to  the  genius 
of  Synge,  would  have  enabled  the  latter  to  conceive 
an  Irish  Peer  Gynt.  He  has  but  to  refine  and  cul- 
tivate a  talent  which  possesses  the  somewhat 
uncouth  vigour  of  undisciplined  nature. 

LORD    DUNSANY 

While  the  third  phase  of  the  Dramatic  Revival  is 
characterised,  in  the  main,  by  the  sacrifice  of  ideals 
and  standards,  there  have,  nevertheless,  been  occa- 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         361 

sions  when  the  original  spirit  has  re-asserted  itself. 
The  welter  of  undistinguished  plays  produced  within 
the  last  five  years  should  not  blind  us  to  the  fact  that- 
the  Abbey  Theatre  has  periodically  justified  its 
fundamental  purpose.  Having  referred  to  the  re- 
vived interest  shown  in  the  work  of  some  compara- 
tively neglected  dramatists,  we  may  cite,  in  further 
extenuation,  an  instance  of  immediate  recognition 
of  unusual  talent.  Lord  Dunsany  is  unique  amongst 
recent  Irish  playwrights  in  every  respect.  He  not 
only  works  in  a  different  medium,  but  he  has  found 
favour  with  a  directorate  almost  wholly  absorbed  in 
stereotyped  folk-drama.  His  first  play,  The  Glitter- 
ing Gate,  was  performed  in  1909,  and,  although 
utterly  dissimilar  from  the  work  of  any  of  his  prede- 
cessors or  contemporaries,  it  has  not  been  suffered 
to  lapse  into  oblivion.  In  1911  King  Argimenes  and 
the  Unknown  Warrior  followed,  and  both  have  been 
included  in  the  volume  of  Five  Plays,  published  in 
1914.  It  is  to  the  credit  of  the  Abbey  Theatre  that 
Lord  Dunsany  should  have  been  first  recognised  as  a 
dramatist  in  his  own  country.  Confirmation  of  this 
critical  discernment  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the 
three  later  plays  in  his  book  were  successfully  per- 
formed to  wider  audiences  in  England. 

The  Glittering  Gate  is  a  strange  conception,  best 
described  as  idealistic  realism.  An  analysis  of  the 
state  of  mind  of  two  dead  burglars,  who  find  them- 
selves before  the  gate  of  heaven,  constitutes  the 
exposition  of  the  piece.  There  is  profound  satire  in 
this  revelation  of  religious  belief  as  moulded  by 
earthly  habits  and  practises.  The  constantly  de- 
scending beer-bottles,  eagerly  seized  by  the  burglar, 
but  always  empty,  are  the  exteriorisation  of  a  train 
of  speculation  whose  symbolic  summary  forms  the 
denouement.  Having  forced  in  the  door  of  heaven, 


362    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

the  two  protagonists  are  disgusted  to  find  behind  it 
"Stars.  Blooming  great  stars."  Disappointed  in 
their  personal  illusions,  they  take  refuge  in  the  petu- 
lant agnosticism  which  conceals  a  conviction  that 
deity  is  inspired  by  spite  to  thwart  the  faith  of  man- 
kind. Rarely  have  such  simple  elements  combined 
to  make  a  play  which  appeals  so  powerfully  both  to 
the  imagination  and  the  intellect.  The  subject  is 
one  which  Yeats  might  have  treated  with  similar 
effect,  but  by  what  dissimilar  means!  He  would 
probably  have  chosen  the  form  of  the  miracle  play, 
and  given  us  a  counterpiece  to  The  Hour  Glass. 
Yet,  at  bottom,  Dunsany  is  more  akin  to  Yeats  than 
is  any  other  dramatist  of  the  Revival.  King  Argi- 
menes  and  the  Unknown  Warrior,  like  The  Gods  of 
the  Mountain  and  The  Golden  Doom,  is  a  prose  render- 
ing of  just  such  themes  as  belong  to  the  Yeatsian 
drama.  But,  as  becomes  the  original  mythologist 
who  created  the  Gods  of  Pegana,  Dunsany  has  turned 
away  from  the  field  of  national  legend  and  history. 
The  scenes  of  his  plays  are  in  that  vague  Orient 
whose  fabulous  cities  witness  the  adventures  of  the 
Pegana  deities.  Such  a  story,  however,  as  that  of 
how  Argimenes  recovered  his  kingship,  when  the 
royal  sword  of  some  buried  warrior  comes  into  his 
hands,  while  he  is  working  in  the  fields  as  a  slave,  is 
of  the  poetic  lineage  from  which  The  Kings  Thresh- 
old sprang.  The  dramatic  writings  of  both  W.  B. 
Yeats  and  Lord  Dunsany  are  informed  by  a  like  sen- 
sitiveness to  beauty,  and  their  delicate  charm  is  not 
always  felt  to  advantage  in  the  theatre.  As  in 
Yeats  one  returns  always  to  the  lyric  poet,  so  in 
Dunsany  we  find,  back  of  the  dramatist,  the  genius 
for  visionary  narrative,  whose  expression  will  be 
noticed  in  a  later  chapter. 


THK  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         363 

THE   ULSTER   LITERARY  THEATRE 

It  would  be  a  serious  omission  to  close  this  account 
of  the  Irish  National  Theatre  without  a  glance  at  the 
history  of  the  Northern  branch  of  the  movement 
from  which  it  derives.  If  the  subject  has  been  de- 
ferred it  is  because  the  earlier  stages  of  the  Ulster 
Literary  Theatre  were  merely  a  repetition  of  what 
has  already  been  recorded  of  the  movement  in 
Dublin.  Further,  the  ultimate  condition  of  the 
Ulster  Theatre  has  been  such  as  to  constitute  a  prac- 
tical demonstration  of  the  result  of  those  tendencies 
which  have  been  described  as  marking  the  third 
phase  of  the  Dramatic  Revival.  The  over-produc- 
tion of  conventionalised  peasant  plays,  the  neglect  of 
dramatists  whose  commercial  value  is  slight,  and  the 
necessity  of  meeting  a  new  standard  of  financial 
success,  have  all  played  a  part  in  radically  altering 
the  policy  of  the  Abbey  Theatre.  Partly  in  order  to 
satisfy  the  requirements  of  commercialism,  and 
partly  to  escape  the  dilemma  of  constant  repetition 
to  audiences  familiar  with  the  limited  popular 
repertoire,  but  unwilling  to  encourage  revival  of  the 
good  work  of  early  years,  the  Irish  Players  have 
become  largely  a  touring  company.  They  are  more 
frequently  seen  out  of  Ireland,  either  performing 
collectively,  or  competing  in  scattered  groups  with 
the  "vaudeville  artists"  of  English  music  halls. 
Their  corporate  existence  has  been  weakened  by  the 
departure  of  the  Fays  and  other  talented  members, 
and  it  has  been  of  late  more  seriously  threatened  by 
the  failure  of  the  Abbey  Theatre  to  keep  open.  In 
the  circumstances,  it  will  be  instructive  to  see 
whether  there  is  much  hope  to  be  placed  in  the  belief 
of  the  directors  that  this  policy  of  touring  is  tem- 
porary, and  that  the  funds  so  collected  will  enable 


364   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

the  Theatre  to  reopen.  The  Ulster  Literary  The- 
atre furnishes  a  useful  analogy,  for  it  has  passed  more 
rapidly  through  the  stages  leading  to  the  position  in 
which  the  Irish  National  Theatre  is  now  situated. 

When  W.  G.  Fay's  Irish  National  Dramatic  Com- 
pany was  formed  in  Dublin,  affiliations  were  created 
with  the  Belfast  Protestant  National  Society,  a 
political  organisation  some  of  whose  members,  not- 
ably Bulmer  Hobson  and  Lewis  Purcell,  were  ac- 
tively interested  in  literature.  With  the  assistance 
of  the  leading  members  of  the  Dublin  company  a 
Belfast  branch  of  the  Dramatic  Movement  came  into 
existence  in  1902,  when  two  plays  from  the  new 
Dublin  repertoire,  Kathleen  ni  Houlihan  and  The 
Racing  Lug,  by  James  Cousins,  were  produced  at 
St.  Mary's  Hall.  Some  months  later  A.  E.'s  Deirdre 
was  performed  in  Belfast,  after  its  appearance  in 
Dublin,  and  in  1904  the  Ulster  Literary  Theatre  was 
formally  inaugurated.  It  was  in  that  year  the  first 
number  of  Uladh  was  issued,  just  on  the  eve  of  the 
Ulster  Theatre's  opening  season,  and  this  journal  of 
Northern  literature  and  drama  served  for  a  brief 
period  the  same  purpose  as  Beltaine  and  Samhain. 
The  inaugural  performances  in  December,  1904,  were 
of  unpublished  plays  by  two  Ulster  playwrights, 
Lewis  Purcell's  municipal  satire,  The  Reformers, 
and  Bulmer  Hobson's  Brian  of  Banba,  a  poetic  drama 
of  the  heroic  age.  The  following  year  saw  the  pro- 
duction of  The  Little  Cowherd  of  Slainge,  a  dramatic 
legend  by  Joseph  Campbell,  and  The  Enthusiast,  in 
which  Lewis  Purcell  set  forth  the  conflict  between 
Catholic  and  Protestant,  and  excited  general  interest 
in  his  handling  of  this  essentially  Ulster  problem. 
The  reputation  of  one  of  the  most  recent  "Abbey" 
playwrights,  St.  John  G.  Ervine,  also  an  Ulsterman, 
rests  upon  the  great  success  of  his  Mixed  Marriage 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         365 

(1911),  where  the  same  problem  is  stated  in  similarly 
pessimistic  terms. 

In  1906  the  Ulster  Literary  Theatre  enjoyed  its 
first  real  success,  when  The  Pagan,  by  Lewis  Purcell, 
and  The  Turn  of  the  Road,  by  Rutherford  Mayne, 
were  produced — the  former  being  the  only  play  its 
author  has  published  in  book  form,  the  latter  intro- 
ducing the  most  important  of  the  Ulster  dramatists. 
The  Pagan  is  an  amusing  comedy  of  Ireland  in  the 
sixth  century,  where  the  humorous  aspect  of  the 
struggle  between  Paganism  and  Christianity  finds 
expression  in  the  Pagan  choice  of  a  young  Christian 
girl  wooed  by  many  suitors.  It  is  the  only  play 
which  attempts  to  visualise  in  comedic  form  the 
competition  of  two  opposite  moral  tendencies  in 
ancient  Ireland.  This  gift  of  humour  where  the 
sacred  conventions — political  or  literary — are  con- 
cerned is  a  pleasant  feature  of  the  Ulster  section  of 
the  Dramatic  Movement.  The  farcical  satire  of 
Gerald  MacNamara's  Thompson  in  Tir-na-n-Og, 
and  When  the  Mist  does  be  on  the  Bog,  was  appreciated 
by  those  who  saw  these  plays  at  the  Abbey  Theatre, 
where  the  Ulster  Players  brought  their  literary 
irreverence  into  the  very  home  of  the  traditions 
satirised.  Like  the  greater  part  of  the  Ulster  plays, 
these  have  never  been  printed,  so  it  has  been  left  to 
one  dramatist  to  represent  the  share  of  Ulster  in  the 
literature  of  the  Dramatic  Movement. 

Joseph  Campbell  has  published  his  interesting 
play  of  Donegal  peasant  life,  Judgment  (1912),  but 
it  is  not  related  to  the  Ulster  Literary  Theatre,  and, 
in  spite  of  an  effective  first  act,  it  has  failed  to  be 
dramatically  convincing.  The  types  of  Northern 
peasantry  are  well  drawn,  and  the  faculty  of  obser- 
vation and  ear  for  language  exhibited  in  the  author's 
notebook,  Mearing  Stones,  are  put  under  valuable 


366   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

contribution.  There  is  reason  to  hope  for  something 
from  Joseph  Campbell  which  will  be  a  permanent 
addition  to  the  Ulster  drama,  whose  best  exponent  at 
present  is  Rutherford  Mayne,  the  only  one  of  his 
group  to  issue  a  representative  volume.  St.  John 
Ervine's  Four  Irish  Plays  can  hardly  be  so  described, 
for  they  are  about  Ulster  rather  than  of  it,  as  must 
happen  when  the  expatriate  Irishman  looks  to  his 
country  for  literary  material.  The  success  of  Mixed 
Marriage  has  already  been  noticed,  and  the  remain- 
ing plays  call  for  no  specific  reference  in  a  study  of 
the  Irish  Theatre.  They  belong  to  the  later  type  of 
"Abbey"  melodrama,  with  the  exception  of  The 
Critics,  an  unfortunate  attempt  at  innovation.  The 
Orangeman,  the  play  next  in  interest  to  Mixed  Mar- 
riage, was  imported  from  the  English  to  the  Irish 
stage,  a  fact  which  indicates  the  unintimate  relation 
between  the  author  and  the  Irish  Movement.  He 
writes  with  equal  facility  for  the  theatres  of  his  own 
and  his  adopted  country,  and  seems  to  find  Cockney 
London  no  less  familiar  than  Belfast.  His  work  can 
no  more  be  identified  with  the  literature  of  the 
Revival  than  can  that  of  Bernard  Shaw,  to  whom  he 
has  dedicated  his  latest  play,  of  lower  middle-class 
English  life. 

RUTHERFORD   MAYNE 

Even  were  he  not  the  only  Ulster  dramatist  to  have 
published  a  considerable  volume  of  work,  Rutherford 
Mayne  is  peculiarly  fitted  to  represent  the  Ulster 
Literary  Theatre.  His  first  play,  The  Turn  of  the 
Road,  was  also  the  first  important  production  of  the 
Ulster  Theatre,  and,  with  the  exception  of  some 
minor,  unpublished  pieces,  all  his  work  has  been  asso- 
ciated with  that  organisation.  In  1907  The  Turn  of 
the  Road  appeared  in  book  form,  in  1908  The  Drone 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT        367 

and  The  Troth  were  produced,  and  their  success  was 
confirmed  by  their  publication  the  following  year. 
Finally,  in  1912,  after  Red  Turf  had  stood  the  test 
of  public  performance,  a  collected  edition  of  all  four 
was  published  under  the  title,  The  Drone  and  other 
Plays.  A  farcical  comedy  in  three  acts,  entitled  If! 
(1914),  has  since  been  produced,  but  not  published. 
If  he  estimates  it  as  he  estimated  his  only  other  de- 
parture from  the  folk-drama,  we  shall  not  find  it 
printed.  Although  the  author  has  shown  himself 
more  successful  with  this  comedy  than  with  the 
bourgeois  tragedy,  Captain  of  the  Hosts,  both  essays 
in  middle-class  drama  are  outside  the  line  of  Ruther- 
ford Mayne's  truest  vision. 

The  Turn  of  the  Road  at  once  suggests  comparison 
with  Padraic  Colum's  The  Fiddler's  House,  for  the 
motive  in  both  plays  is  similar.  Here,  however,  it  is 
a  young  man  who  renounces  the  land  to  follow  the 
musical  career  which  his  love  for  his  fiddle  seems 
to  promise  him.  Characteristic  of  the  prudent 
North  is  the  fact  that,  even  where  the  conflict  is 
one  between  artist  and  philistine,  the  former  is  not 
depicted  as  wholly  careless  of  material  considera- 
tions. Conn  Hourican,  in  The  Fiddler's  House,  is 
prepared  to  take  to  the  roads  in  obedience  to  the 
artistic  instinct  that  is  in  him.  Robbie  John  Grana- 
han  makes  the  same  choice,  but  the  prize  he  has 
received  at  a  recent  Feis,  and  the  favourable  criticism 
of  the  judges,  offer  him  more  substantial  hopes  than 
were  present  to  tempt  the  peasant  of  the  Midlands 
in  Colum's  play.  All  the  difference  between  Ulster 
and  the  rest  of  Ireland  is  felt  in  these  two  variations 
upon  an  almost  identical  theme.  Rutherford  Mayne's 
world  is  one  in  which  imprudence  has  no  place, 
his  peasants  are  hardheaded  and,  in  the  main,  com- 
paratively well  to  do,  their  conversation  turns  inces- 


368    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

santly  upon  money,  and  indifference  where  profit  is 
concerned  becomes  a  cardinal  sin.  Again,  Protes- 
tant Puritanism,  as  distinct  from  the  peculiarly  Irish, 
Catholic  variety,  colours  his  work.  In  The  Turn  of 
the  Road,  the  struggle  of  the  artist  is  intensified  by 
the  puritan  hostility  which  his  gift  encounters.  He 
faces  a  world  in  which  the  love  of  art  is  not  only  an 
economic,  but  a  moral,  heresy.  The  dour  Protes- 
tantism of  the  North  throws  a  harsh  light  upon  the 
scene  of  this  play  in  curious  contrast  to  the  soft 
Catholic  atmosphere  in  which  The  Fiddler's  House  is 
steeped. 

The  longest  play  of  Rutherford  Mayne  is  The 
Drone,  whose  original  two  acts  have  been  lengthened 
to  three,  since  it  was  first  produced  by  the  Ulster 
Literary  Theatre  in  1908.  It  is  probably  the  purest 
and  most  natural  comedy  written  in  Ireland  in  recent 
years;  it  is  certainly  the  best  of  all  that  the  so-called 
realistic  playwrights  have  given  us.  There  are  none  of 
the  extravagances  of  genius  which  would  warrant  com- 
parison with  the  comedies  of  Synge,  and  for  that  rea- 
son we  must  turn  to  the  "realists"  for  a  parallel.  Lady 
Gregory's  joyous  farces  do  not  supply  the  necessary 
points  of  contact,  but  William  Boyle  has  written  out 
of  a  more  analogous  mood.  There  is  an  obvious 
identity  of  motive  between  several  of  his  plays  and 
The  Drone,  which  tells  of  the  manner  in  which  a  lazy 
old  man  imposes  upon  his  relatives,  by  pretending 
that  he  is  working  at  a  great  invention.  All  his  life 
he  has  been  suffering  from  the  failing  which  forms 
the  subject  of  William  Boyle's  popular  comedy,  but 
his  laziness  is  not  visible  to  those  who  believe  they 
will  one  day  share  the  fruits  of  his  invention,  as  a 
reward  for  having  kept  him  many  years  in  idleness. 
The  arrival  of  a  Scotch  engineer,  who  shows  up  the 
imposture,  leads  the  pseudo-inventor  to  a  display  of 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         369 

unusual  activity  in  a  series  of  attempts  to  stave  off 
the  inevitable  exposure,  and  it  is  a  part  of  the  dram- 
atist's triumph  that  the  defeated  old  man  convinces 
us  of  his  superiority  to  his  victims.  The  drone, 
Daniel  Murray,  is  one  of  the  most  charming  character 
studies  in  modern  Irish  drama,  and  the  tragi-comedy 
of  his  humiliation  has  just  that  quality  of  good  art 
which  leaves  the  reader  reflective.  The  play  goes 
far  beyond  the  mere  buffooneries  of  Family  Failing, 
where  laughter  is  not  tempered  by  any  intellectual 
emotion.  Rutherford  Mayne  succeeds  in  projecting 
genuine  humour  into  situations  which  are  at  once 
the  essence  of  comedy  and  the  essence  of  life  in  rural 
Ulster. 

Of  the  two  one-act  plays,  The  Troth  and  Red  Turfy 
only  the  former  calls  for  more  than  passing  notice. 
They  are  both  of  the  more  conventional  "Abbey" 
type,  especially  Red  Turf,  with  its  Galway  setting 
and  its  purely  external  action.  The  shooting  of  one 
farmer  by  another  in  a  quarrel  as  to  rights  of  turbary 
seems,  perhaps,  to  differ  very  slightly  from  the 
shooting  of  a  landlord  by  the  prospective  victims  of 
an  eviction.  The  latter  theme,  however,  assumes  in 
The  Troth  an  interest  denied  to  the  former.  Here 
the  dramatist  has  the  advantage  of  studying  the 
people  he  knows  best,  and  were  it  only  for  his  por- 
trayal of  the  Ulster  peasant  in  tragic  circumstances, 
the  play  would  be  interesting.  In  Rutherford  Mayne's 
series  of  Northern  studies  this  is  the  only  case  in 
which  he  shows  us  the  Ulsterman  face  to  face  with 
such  a  crisis  as  fell  more  commonly  to  the  lot  of 
his  less  fortunate  countrymen  in  the  South  and  West. 
As  a  rule  he  describes  lives  less  sharply  in  conflict 
with  the  elemental  realities  of  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence. Where  the  others  talk  of  hunger  and  emigra- 
tion and  death,  the  characters  of  Rutherford  Mayne's 


370   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

drama  are  preoccupied  with  cares  of  the  prosperous, 
the  driving  of  a  good  bargain,  disputes  as  to  dowries 
in  terms  of  three  figures,  and  the  promptings  of  a 
Nonconformist  conscience.  The  Troth,  therefore, 
gives  us  a  glimpse  of  the  other  side  of  the  picture, 
and  there  is  a  peculiar  significance  in  the  natural  way 
in  which  the  fundamental  problem  in  Irish  affairs  is 
solved.  Without  the  slightest  hesitation  or  apology 
the  dramatist  brings  Catholic  and  Protestant  to- 
gether for  the  destruction  of  their  common  enemy. 
Ebenezer  McKie  and  Francis  Moore,  in  their  joint 
action  against  the  landlord,  are  Irish  peasants  first 
and  religious  opponents  second.  The  oppression  of 
intolerable  wrong  reveals  the  shallowness  of  the  much 
emphasised  difference  between  Orange  and  Green. 

Rutherford  Mayne  has  studied  the  speech  and 
manners  of  the  Ulster  peasant  with  a  care  and  insight 
too  often  absent  from  the  attention  lavished  upon  the 
West.  His  plays,  both  in  form  and  content,  are  a 
faithful  reflection  of  Irish  conditions  modified  by 
prosperity  and  Protestantism.  In  the  theatre  a  cot- 
tage scene  in  an  Ulster  play  evokes  circumstances 
absolutely  different  from  those  suggested  by  the  same 
setting  for  a  play  by  Synge  or  Colum.  It  is  only 
necessary  to  see  the  Ulster  Players  to  realise  what  an 
original  and  essential  part  is  theirs  in  the  presenta- 
tion of  Irish  folk-drama.  Peasant  speech  has  come 
to  be  identified  in  the  mind  of  the  general  public  with 
the  language  of  Synge,  or  the  Kiltartan  of  Lady 
Gregory,  and  the  anonymous  dialect  of  her  successors. 
But  the  Ulster  Theatre  has  preserved  an  idiom  which 
deserves  to  be  known  as  well  as  these.  If  not  so 
highly  coloured  as  the  Anglo-Irish  of  the  West,  it  is 
full  of  striking  terms  and  phrases,  and  has  a  faint 
Biblical  rhythm  which  is  not  found  elsewhere. 
Rutherford  Mayne  has  made  himself  master  of  a 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT        371 

speech  whose  force  and  quiet  charm  are  visible  in  the 
printed  text.  He  allowed  himself  to  be  betrayed 
into  following  the  conventional  line  of  least  resist-- 
ance  when  he  turned  to  the  West  for  his  Red  Turf. 
His  isolation  and  originality  are  rewarded  in  the 
case  of  his  other  plays  by  the  literary  quality  con- 
ferred upon  them,  but  denied  to  the  majority  of 
recent  imitative  playwrights. 

Unfortunately  the  absence  of  published  Ulster 
plays  has  given  an  ephemeral  air  to  the  career  of  the 
Ulster  Literary  Theatre.  A  contributory  factor  has 
been  the  absence  of  an  institution  in  Belfast  corre- 
sponding to  the  Abbey  Theatre  in  Dublin.  A  cer- 
tain disintegration  has  been  the  consequence  of  this 
lack  of  a  centre  about  which  the  activities  of  the 
Ulster  playwrights  might  be  grouped.  Uladh  ceased 
to  exist  after  four  quarterly  numbers  had  been  issued, 
and  the  plays,  produced  at  first  in  small  halls,  found 
their  way  to  the  ordinary  theatres  of  commerce,  to 
whose  conditions  they  had,  of  course,  to  submit. 
Naturally,  commercialisation  ensued.  Moving  about 
from  theatre  to  music-hall,  and  touring  in  Eng- 
land and  in  the  United  States,  the  Ulster  drama 
finally  became  submerged  in  the  general  stream  of 
digestive  amusements.  It  had  not  the  visibly  cor- 
porate existence  which,  in  spite  of  increasing  com- 
mercialisation, has  kept  the  National  Theatre  Society 
a  distinct  entity,  with  aims  and  traditions  of  its  own. 
But,  as  has  been  stated,  the  last  two  years  have  seen 
this  distinction  in  the  way  of  being  effaced.  The 
Irish  Players,  in  popular  plays,  have  found  tours  so 
necessary,  or  so  profitable,  that  the  Abbey  Theatre 
has  had  to  close  its  doors  rather  too  frequently. 
The  belief  that  the  scattered  elements  of  the  Move- 
ment can  be  joined  as  before  is  not  supported  by  the 
example  of  the  Ulster  Literary  Theatre. 


372    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Now  that  Irish  drama  is  thrown  into  competition 
with  the  ordinary  playhouses  and  variety  entertain- 
ments, the  prospect  of  preserving  the  original  spirit 
of  the  Revival  is  slight.  A  radical  reconstruction 
of  the  vital  factors  of  the  movement  must  be  effected 
under  circumstances  where  the  necessity  for  making 
profits  will  not  arise.  It  was  a  mistake  for  the  Ulster 
drama  to  be  thrown  back  upon  the  commercial 
theatres  when  it  found  itself  without  a  stage  of  its 
own.  Instead  of  paying  occasional  visits  to  Dublin, 
the  Ulster  Society  should  have  amalgamated  with 
the  National  Theatre  Society.  Strange  to  say,  none 
of  the  plays  was  first  produced  at  the  Abbey  Theatre, 
even  so  recent  a  work  as  Red  Turf  (1911)  had  its 
premiere  in  Belfast.  It  would,  of  course,  be  prefer- 
able to  have  in  Belfast  a  theatre  standing  in  the  same 
relation  to  the  Dramatic  Movement  in  Ulster  as  the 
Abbey  Theatre  has  stood  to  the  movement  in  the 
South.  But  the  inability  of  the  latter  to  escape 
commercialism  indicates  the  necessity  of  an  endow- 
ment, which  was  not  forthcoming  in  Belfast,  even  to 
the  limited  extent  enjoyed  by  the  Abbey  Theatre. 
It  will  probably  be  easier  to  obtain  one  endowed 
theatre  than  two,  for  which  reason,  amalgamation, 
with  a  subsidy,  is  essential  to  the  welfare  of  the 
National  Theatre. 

To-day,  as  in  the  beginning,  we  find  the  division  of 
forces  to  be  the  weakness  of  the  Dramatic  Revival. 
The  various  channels  into  which  its  activities  flowed 
must  be  joined  if  a  current  is  to  be  formed  strong 
enough  to  resist  the  obstacles  in  the  way  of  all 
artistic  endeavour.  These  obstacles  are  so  difficult 
that  it  is  folly  to  increase  them  by  emphasising  points 
of  difference  which  result  in  narrowness,  sectionalism 
and  monotony.  Both  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre 
and  its  successor  have  given  birth  to  writers  who 


THE  DRAMATIC  MOVEMENT         373 

have  enlarged  the  interest  of  Anglo-Irish  literature. 
They  have  been  promoted  and  fostered  by  men  and 
women  imbued  with  the  single  ambition  of  creative 
art,  but  each  has  paid,  in  its  respective  measure,  the 
penalty  of  separatism.  No  spirit  of  ingratitude  has 
prompted  this  attempt  to  indicate  the  defects  of  the 
Dramatic  Movement,  which  could  not  have  de- 
veloped at  all  but  for  the  most  patient  and  disinter- 
ested labours  of  many.  But  its  existence,  now 
threatened,  may  be  strengthened  if  the  mistakes  of 
the  past  are  understood.  Too  much  indiscriminate 
enthusiasm  has  not  only  been  largely  responsible  for 
the  fatal  popularity  of  the  "Abbey"  drama,  but  it 
has  served  to  concentrate  attention  upon  the  suc- 
cesses, literary  or  otherwise,  of  the  Movement,  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  else.  But  its  failures  are  important, 
and  never  more  so  than  now,  when  certain  successes 
have  conspired  for  its  ruin.  National  drama  cannot 
live  by  such  specialisation  as  has  produced  the  stereo- 
typed peasant  play,  it  must  embrace  a  wider  field. 
The  united  forces  of  the  two  streams  into  which  the 
Dramatic  Revival  originally  diverged,  with  the  con- 
sequent concentration  of  all  minor  activities,  can 
alone  assure  the  future  of  the  Irish  National  Theatre. 


CHAPTER  XV 
FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE 

THE  WEAK  POINT  OF  THE  REVIVAL.  NOVELISTS! 
GEORGE  MOORE.  SHAN  F.  BULLOCK.  OTHER 
PROSE  WRITERS:  LORD  DUNSANY.  JAMES  STE- 
PHENS. LADY  GREGORY.  CONCLUSION 

ANGLO-IRISH  literature  has  been  rich  in 
poetry  and  drama,  but  the  absence  of 
good  prose  fiction  is  noticeable,  when  it  is 
remembered  that  the  romances  of  O'Grady 
were  the  starting  point  of  the  Revival.  Indeed,  were 
it  not  for  the  essays  of  John  Eglinton,  the  occasional 
prose  pieces  of  A.  E.,  and  Yeats's  two  volumes  of 
stories,  one  might  say  that  the  art  of  prose  has  been 
comparatively  neglected.  For  many  years  John 
Eglinton  was  the  only  writer  of  the  Revival  who 
wished  to  be  known  solely  as  a  prosaist,  but  there  is 
nowadays  a  perceptible  tendency  amongst  the  new 
writers  to  seek  expression  outside  the  limits  of 
poetry  and  drama.  They  do  not,  however,  seem 
interested  in  the  novel  as  such,  and  prefer  some  even 
more  amorphous  form.  Even  those  who  write  short 
stories,  the  most  popular  form  of  fiction  in  contem- 
porary Anglo-Irish  literature,  rarely  conform  to  the 
traditions  of  the  conte  or  nouvelle.  They  either  con- 
nect their  narrative  by  some  loose  thread,  or  they 
reduce  their  stories  to  the  dimensions  of  a  sketch. 
Of  novelists  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word  we  have 
very  few,  and  they  do  not  appear  so  intimately  re- 

374 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    375 

lated  to  the  Revival  as  the  poets  and  dramatists.  A 
vast  quantity  of  purely  "circulationist"  fiction  must 
be  laid  to  the  charge  of  Irish  writers.  Much  of  it  is 
frankly  added  as  a  "side-line"  to  their  literary 
activities;  some  of  it  is  doubtless  intended  as  a  con- 
tribution to  literature.  For  obvious  reasons,  only 
the  more  significant  novelists  call  for  such  reference 
as  is  possible  in  dealing  with  a  large  field  whose  pre- 
vailing flatness  is  its  most  prominent  characteristic. 


EMILY   LAWLESS   AND    JANE    BARLOW 

Emily  Lawless  was  the  first  of  the  modern  writers 
of  fiction  to  obtain  recognition,  when  Hurrish  was 
published  in  1886.  This  story  of  Land  League 
times  was  an  early  manifestation  of  that  interest  in 
peasant  conditions  which  has  become  the  special 
feature  of  the  Revival.  It  must,  however,  be  said 
that  at  this  point  the  connection  ceases,  for  Emily 
Lawless  wrote  her  book  entirely  as  an  unsympa- 
thetic observer.  The  agrarian  movement  is  seen  in 
the  darkness  of  anti-national  prejudice,  not  in  the 
light  of  understanding,  and  the  caricatural  rendering 
of  Irish  dialect  stamps  the  book  as  intended  for 
foreign  consumption.  More  fortunate  was  the  choice 
of  the  Elizabethan  wars  in  With  Essex  in  Ireland 
(1890),  followed  in  1892  by  Crania,  an  interesting 
picture  of  life  in  the  Aran  Islands,  unspoiled  by  any 
misconception  of  Irish  politics  or  Irish  speech. 
Maelcho  (1894)  is  a  second  attempt  at  historical 
fiction  hardly  to  be  compared  with  the  earlier  story 
of  Essex's  expedition,  to  which  a  certain  charm  is 
lent  by  the  convention  of  a  style  contemporary  with 
the  events  related.  In  her  narrative  of  the  Desmond 
rebellion  there  is  something  of  that  hostility  to  the 
"mere  Irish"  which  was  felt  in  Hurrish,  and  which 


376    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

contributed  to  the  failure  of  Emily  Lawless  as  an 
historical  novelist.  Compared  with  the  glowing 
enthusiasm  of  O'Grady's  Elizabethan  stories  her 
work  appears  colourless.  She  is  most  likely  to  be 
reread  for  the  sake  of  Traits  and  Confidences  (1898) 
and  The  Book  of  Gilly  (1906),  two  delightful  volumes 
of  Western  sketches  and  impressions.  In  these  later 
works  there  is  a  modification  of  that  attitude  of 
aloof  superiority,  which  seems  to  have  sensibly 
weakened  as  a  result  of  the  changed  conception  of 
nationality  effected  by  the  Revival.  In  1886  Hur- 
risk  expressed  the  only  possible  point  of  view  in 
respectable  circles.  But,  as  time  went  on,  Emily 
Lawless  found  that  she  could  permeate  her  work  with 
the  spirit  and  colour  of  the  West,  without  prejudice 
to  her  political  and  social  convictions.  Instead  of 
uncouth,  almost  non-human  beings,  living  in  a 
savage  land,  she  shows  us  the  wild  and  simple  beauty 
of  life  on  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic,  whose  fascination 
haunted  her  verse,  and  finally  found  expression  in  her 
prose. 

More  properly  to  be  counted  among  the  prose 
writers  of  the  Revival  is  the  author  whose  poems, 
Bogland  Studies,  have  already  been  mentioned  as  pre- 
liminary to  that  part  of  her  work  which  now  calls 
for  attention.  Jane  Barlow  had  just  only  begun  to 
write  for  The  Dublin  University  Review  when  Emily 
Lawless  was  known  as  a  novelist  of  some  standing. 
Her  career  coincides,  therefore,  with  that  of  the  poets 
so  exclusively  identified  with  the  renascence  in 
Ireland.  In  1892  7mA  Idylls  was  published,  the 
first  of  the  long  series  of  "bogland  studies"  which 
includes  Kerrigan's  Quality,  Maureen's  Fairing, 
Strangers  at  Lisconnell  and  many  others.  Some- 
times, as  in  Kerrigan's  Quality  and  The  Founding  of 
Fortunes,  a  slight  plot  gives  an  air  of  cohesion  to 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    377 

these  stories,  but  the  author  is  always  and  essentially 
a  short-story  writer.  She  depends  entirely  upon  the 
natural  charm  of  the  scenes  and  incidents  depicted, 
and  reduces  construction  to  a  minimum.  She  has  a 
fine  selective  instinct  which  rarely  betrays  her  into 
the  trivial  or  absurd,  and  this,  coupled  with  a  remark- 
able knowledge  of  the  simpler  aspects  of  peasant  life, 
enables  the  author  to  avoid  the  dangers  with  which 
the  use  of  dialect  is  beset — dangers  which  threatened 
the  success  of  Bogland  Studies,  as  has  been  noted. 

In  most  of  Jane  Barlow's  work  there  is  a  suggestion 
of  patronage,  perhaps  unavoidable  in  one  who 
studies  the  peasant  from  outside,  but  the  evident 
sympathy  with  which  these  idylls  are  written  saves 
them  from  the  reproach  of  offensiveness.  Fre- 
quent passages  testify  to  a  complete  comprehension 
of  the  precarious  position  of  the  dependent  land- 
holder, and  the  familiar  figures  of  the  countryside  are 
sketched  with  considerable  skill.  There  is,  indeed, 
such  intimacy  with  the  life  of  the  peasantry  in  its 
external  aspects  that  one  wonders  how  the  necessary 
intercourse  can  have  resulted  in  so  scrupulous  an 
absence  of  didacticism.  Nobody  would  wish  to  see 
these  pictures  spoiled  by  the  crude  colours  of  the 
propagandist,  but  the  unconscious  propaganda  of 
deep  feeling  might  have  stimulated  the  reader  to 
supply  the  data  excluded  by  the  artist.  It  is  pre- 
cisely here  that  one  feels  that  Jane  Barlow  lacks  the 
requisite  equipment  for  the  study  of  rural  Ireland. 
Everything  she  sees  is  softened  in  the  glow  of  easy 
good  humour  or  sentimental  compassion,  so  that  a 
rather  superficial  impression  is  all  that  remains  when 
she  has  told  her  story.  She  almost  never  shows  her- 
self conscious  of  the  spiritual  entity  concealed  in 
these  people  whom  she  depicts  in  all  manner  of  cir- 
cumstances. Whether  they  are  happy  or  sad,  pros- 


378    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

perous  or  ill-treated,  they  are  portrayed  solely  as 
idyllic  subjects  whose  problems  are  not  stated  in 
relation  to  any  tangible  reality.  There  is,  in  short,  a 
decidedly  unnatural  detachment  in  Jane  Barlow's 
conception  of  the  Irish  peasant.  He  is  purely  a 
creature  of  romance,  whose  existence  is  not  to  be 
measured  by  reference  to  unpleasant  facts. 


SEUMAS    MACMANUS   AND    SHAN   F.    BULLOCK 

Two  Northern  storytellers  are  Shan  F.  Bullock 
and  Seumas  MacManus,  each  of  whom  published  his 
first  book  in  1893.  The  latter  is  known  also  as  a 
poet  and  dramatist,  but  his  popularity  derives  from 
the  numerous  tales  of  Donegal  life  and  fairy  lore 
which  began  in  1896  with  The  Leadirf  Road  to  Done- 
gal. This  work  came  after  Shuilers  from  Heathy 
Hills  (1893),  a  collection  of  prose  and  verse,  but  it 
may  be  said  to  mark  the  beginning  of  the  author's 
career.  In  spite  of  its  flagrantly  "stage  Irishman" 
humour  and  exaggerated  dialect,  Seumas  MacManus 
was  not  destined  to  follow  in  the  tracks  of  Lover 
and  Lever.  'Twas  in  Dhroll  Donegal  (1897)  and 
The  Humours  of  Donegal  (1898)  were  still  in  the 
rollicking  Lover  manner,  but  Through  the  Turf 
Smoke  (1899)  showed  more  restraint  and  closer 
observation  of  actual  peasant  life.  Three  volumes 
of  folk-tales,  The  Bewitched  Fiddle,  In  Chimney  Cor- 
ners and  Donegal  Fairy  Tales,  followed  in  immediate 
succession,  and  afforded  evidence  of  the  author's 
increasing  literary  skill,  which  soon  attained  its 
fullest  expression.  A  Lad  of  the  O'Friels,  which 
appeared  in  1903,  is  superior  to  anything  else  Seumas 
MacManus  has  published,  and  may  be  counted  as 
one  of  the  best  idealistic  novels  of  the  Irish  peasantry 
we  possess.  Like  most  of  its  kind,  the  book  inevi- 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    379 

tably  tends  to  fall  into  a  series  of  scenes,  but  the 
thread  is  sufficiently  substantial  to  constitute  a 
genuine  story,  instead  of  the  more  usual  peg  upon 
which  to  hang  detached  sketches.  The  community 
of  Knocknagar  is  a  living  microcosm,  studied  with 
eyes  which  have  seen  from  the  inside  the  people  and 
events  described.  Seumas  MacManus  succeeds  in 
shaking  off  the  obsession  of  broad  comedy  which  has 
heretofore  clung  to  him,  and  writes  directly  out  of  a 
life  he  knows  so  well,  that  one  regrets  his  concessions 
to  stereotype.  The  memorable  picture  of  a  Lough 
Derg  pilgrimage  is  a  perfect  example  of  the  fine 
material  which  lies  at  the  disposal  of  the  Irish 
novelist. 

Shan  F.  Bullock  is  a  writer  of  a  very  different 
calibre,  and  one  who  occupies  an  almost  unique  posi- 
tion in  the  literature  produced  under  the  influence 
of  the  Revival.  He  is  that  rare  phenomenon 
amongst  his  contemporaries,  a  genuine  novelist,  who 
has  eschewed  both  poetry  and  drama,  and  whose 
short  stories  are  a  very  small  part  of  his  work. 
Ring  O'Rushes  (1896)  and  Irish  Pastorals  (1901)  are 
the  only  volumes  he  has  published  in  emulation  of 
Seumas  MacManus  or  Jane  Barlow.  But  to  these 
glimpses  of  rural  manners  in  the  County  Fermanagh 
he  has  imparted  a  seriousness  not  characteristic  of 
the  more  popular  writers.  By  Thrasna  River,  his 
first  important  novel,  appeared  in  1895,  and  to  this 
may  be  added  The  Barry s  (1897),  The  Squireen 
(1903)  and  Dan  the  Dollar  (1905).  From  a  list  of 
more  than  a  dozen  volumes  these  three  will  stand 
as  representative  of  the  author  who  has  most  con- 
sistently worked  to  obtain  for  Irish  fiction  some- 
thing of  the  prestige  reserved  for  poetry  and  drama. 
His  novels  deal  almost  exclusively  with  the  people 
of  Ulster,  although  in  The  Barrys  half  the  action 


380    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

takes  place  in  London,  where  the  strange  background 
throws  into  stronger  relief  the  characteristics  of  the 
race  from  which  the  protagonists  have  sprung. 
Shan  F.  Bullock  is  not  content  to  study  Northern 
manners  merely  in  their  local  manifestations.  His 
two  books  of  short  sketches  prove  that  he  can  write 
in  the  familiar,  semi-idyllic  manner  as  well  as  the 
chief  exponents  of  the  genre,  but  he  is  capable  of  more 
sustained  effort.  He  alone  has  essayed  to  make  the 
study  of  rural  life  simultaneously  locally  and  univer- 
sally human.  He  has  analysed  the  Ulster  tempera- 
ment in  conflict  with  fundamental  problems,  where 
deeper  knowledge  is  demanded  than  is  necessary  to 
draw  the  picturesque  outline  of  a  peasant  com- 
munity. Consequently,  one  feels  a  gravity  in  his 
work  utterly  lacking  in  the  romantic  humour  and 
pathos  of  Jane  Barlow  and  Seumas  MacManus. 
He  does  not  see  life  as  a  sentimentalist,  but  as  a 
realist,  who  cannot  persuade  himself  that  the  smiles 
and  tears  of  Hibernian  romanticism  are  an  adequate 
commentary  upon  the  conditions  he  describes. 

t 

GEORGE    MOORE 

The  three  volumes  of  George  Moore's  Hail  and 
Farewell  might  be  included  in  the  category  of  Irish 
fiction,  were  it  not  for  their  autobiographical  form, 
coupled  with  the  use  of  the  names  and  attributes  of 
living  persons.  Had  the  author  chosen  a  more  ficti- 
tious setting  for  this  romance  of  literary  Dublin,  he 
would  have  spared  us  the  pain  of  surrendering  a 
remarkable  work  of  imagination  to  the  student  of 
memoirs.  Having  previously  drawn  upon  some  of 
the  people  of  his  reminiscences  for  his  novels,  he 
might  have  continued  the  conventional  disguise  to 
the  end.  W.  B.  Yeats  and  A.  E.  were  no  less  them- 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    381 

selves  when  they  figured  successively  as  "Ulick 
Dean"  in  the  early  and  later  editions  of  Evelyn 
Innes.  They  would  have  lost  nothing  of  their  per- 
sonality had  they  been  similarly  c^sguised  in  this 
narrative  of  a  repatriated  Irishman's  adventures 
in  the  land  of  the  Literary  Revival.  George  Moore, 
however,  crediting  the  subjects  of  his  investigation, 
as  well  as  the  public,  with  his  own  capacity  for 
artistic  detachment,  decided  to  elaborate  the  story 
of  his  return  to  Ireland,  without  troubling  to  conceal 
the  identity  of  his  material.  With  the  perfect  cal- 
lousness of  the  realistic  novelist,  he  took  his  "human 
documents"  and  arranged  them  with  an  eye  only  to 
their  literary  effectiveness.  These  were  slices  of  life 
very  much  more  personally  alive  than  the  anonymous 
romans  vecus  of  his  original  French  masters,  but  he 
exhibited  them  with  the  dispassionate  enthusiasm  of 
Zola  reconstructing  his  picture  of  life  during  the 
Second  Empire.  Ave,  Salve  and  Vale,  in  their 
strange  juxtaposition  of  fact  and  fancy,  form  one  of 
the  most  charming  prose  works  associated  with  the 
Irish  Literary  Revival,  of  which  they  are  the  indis- 
pensable glossary  and  the  sentimental  history. 

Fortunately,  George  Moore  has  left  us  a  more 
enduring  mark  of  his  passage  than  his  collaboration 
in  the  Irish  Literary  Theatre,  and  a  less  equivocal 
sign  of  his  participation  than  Hail  and  Farewell. 
During  his  residence  in  Ireland  he  published  one 
volume  of  short  stories,  The  Untilled  Field  (1903), 
and  one  novel,  The  Lake  (1905),  which  were,  until 
recently,  the  only  works  of  the  first  class  in  Irish 
fiction.  In  a  preface  to  the  Tauchnitz  edition  of  the 
former  book  the  author  relates  how,  at  the  suggestion 
of  John  Eglinton,  he  began  to  write  these  stories,  in 
order  to  preserve  his  impressions  of  Irish  life,  as  it 
revealed  itself  to  him  after  many  years,  absence. 


382    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

They  were  ostensibly  published,  however,  for  the 
purpose  of  supplying  Irish  prose  writers  with  models, 
both  Gaelic  and  English,  and  several  appeared  in 
The  New  Ireland  Review  in  parallel  versions,  after 
the  manner  of  Douglas  Hyde's  Connacht  songs. 
Whether  the  translated  volume,  An  T-U'r-Ghort, 
which  was  published  the  same  year  as  the  English 
edition,  was  an  equally  remarkable  contribution  to 
contemporary  Gaelic  literature,  is  doubtful.  The 
author  himself  has  recounted  with  much  humour 
his  failure  to  command  the  same  attention  from  his 
Irish-speaking  as  from  his  English-speaking  readers. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  moral  rather  than  literary 
considerations  guided  the  Gaels  in  this,  as  in  many 
other  instances,  with  the  result  that  Anglo-Ireland 
is  the  richer  of  the  modern  Gaelic  disdain  for  aesthetic 
truth.  The  Untilled  Field  is  the  most  perfect  book 
of  short  stories  in  contemporary  Irish  literature  and 
need  not  fear  comparison  with  A  Sportsman  Sketches, 
—the  model  proposed  by  John  Eglinton.  In  the 
Tauchnitz  preface  Moore  denies  the  hope  of  fulfil- 
ling the  demands  of  his  friend,  but  only  with  Turge- 
nev's  analogous  volume  can  his  own  be  compared, 
for  its  exquisite  sense  of  natural  beauty. 

Not  content  with  his  achievement  in  this  character- 
istically Irish  genre,  he  proceeded  to  meet  our  great- 
est need,  by  giving  the  literature  of  the  Revival  its 
first  and  only  novel  of  distinction,  The  Lake.  The 
personal  and  national  metamorphosis  which  sepa- 
rated the  author  and  his  country  from  the  distant 
period  of  Parnell  and  his  Island  was  dramatically 
revealed  in  The  Untilled  Field.  The  former  volume 
of  impressions,  dated  1887,  showed  the  Ireland  of 
Land  League  days  in  the  distorted  view  of  an 
absentee  landowner,  even  more  thoroughly  dena- 
tionalised than  usual  by  his  literary  apprenticeship 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    383 

in  Paris.  Equally  great  is  the  distance  separating 
A  Drama  in  Muslin  (1886)  and  The  Lake  (1905), 
both  from  a  literary  and  chronological  point  of  view, 
but  the  difference  between  the  two  novels  is  of  an- 
other quality.  Whatever  objections  may  have  been 
raised  against  Muslin, — to  give  the  book  its  revised 
title  of  1915? — it  is  unjust  to  assume,  as  has  been  the 
practise  of  Irish  critics,  that  the  author  tried  delib- 
erately to  calumny  and  misrepresent  fashionable 
society  in  Dublin.  Although  contemporaneous  with 
Parnell  and  his  Island,  the  novel  is  a  dispassionate 
study,  in  the  realistic  manner,  of  social  conditions, 
not  a  personal  criticism  like  the  former  work.  After 
the  magnificent  portrayal  of  English  manners  in 
A  Mummer's  Wife,  nothing  could  have  been  more 
legitimately  interesting  than  a  similar  analysis  of 
Irish  society,  and  Muslin  deserves  no  other  criticism 
than  that  which  has  been  applied  to  all  the  earlier 
works  of  George  Moore  prior  to  his  return  to  Ire- 
land. To  make  of  it  an  occasion  for  patriotic  indig- 
nation is  merely  to  claim  that  preferential  treatment 
which  no  writer  of  genius  has  ever  conceded  to  his 
own  people.  The  Irish  setting  is  of  no  immediate 
significance,  for  at  that  time  the  novelist  was  inno- 
cent of  any  suspicion  of  national  bias,  unless  towards 
France,  his  intellectual  motherland. 

It  is  precisely  this  fortuitous  setting  which  consti- 
tutes the  point  of  contrast  between  the  earlier  novel 
and  The  Lake.  The  latter  is  Irish,  the  former  is 
about  Ireland,  and  might,  so  far  as  its  spirit  is  con- 
cerned, have  been  written  by  a  foreigner.  As  befits 
Irish  fiction,  The  Lake  is  composed  of  the  simplest 
elements,  and  thereby  stands  in  complete  contrast 
to  all  the  author's  other  novels.  Here  one  does  not 
find  the  amorous  adventures,  the  rise  and  fall  of  for- 
tunes, the  amusing,  discreditable  and  graphic  inci- 


384   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

dents  of  modern  life, — the  vast  fabric  of  a  compli- 
cated social  organism  unrolled  with  the  patient, 
unwearied  gesture  of  the  realistic  novelist.  On  the 
contrary,  the  vital  action  takes  place  within  the 
four  walls  of  the  parish-priest's  house,  in  a  remote 
Western  village,  where  he  receives  the  letters  which 
are  the  occasion  of  an  intensely  interesting  spiritual 
drama.  Father  Oliver  Gogarty  is  the  only  one  of  the 
chief  protagonists  whom  we  meet  face  to  face,  after 
the  first  glimpse  of  Rose  Leicester,  as  she  flees  from 
the  parish  under  the  shadow  of  sin.  Her  corre-. 
spondence  with  her  repentant  accuser  is  all  that  we 
have,  for  it  is  his  evolution,  under  the  subtle  influ- 
ence of  the  woman  he  unconsciously  loves,  which  is 
the  interest  of  the  story. 

With  delicate  art  Moore  has  outlined  this  drama  of 
revolt  against  celibacy  and  belief,  so  that  the  banal 
theme  is  invested  with  a  charm  absent  from  the  tra- 
ditional rendering  of  the  conflict.  He  avoids  the 
querulous  didacticism  of  the  familiar  novel  of  prose- 
lytism  or  agnosticism,  just  as  he  eliminates  all  sug- 
gestion of  merely  physical  temptation.  Oliver 
Gogarty's  relation  towards  Rose  is  a  profound  piece 
of  psychological  analysis,  in  which  the  material 
factor  is  diminished  to  such  a  point  that  the  woman 
becomes,  as  it  were,  a  symbol.  Having  carefully 
summarised  the  circumstances  of  Gogarty's  priest- 
hood, having  postulated  his  spiritual  and  tempera- 
mental disposition,  he  allows  the  interaction  of  ideas 
and  emotions  to  divest  the  priest  of  the  accidental 
and  external  accretions  of  his  existence  until,  at  last, 
the  man  emerges.  The  latter  has  stripped  off  the 
garments  of  convention,  as  well  as  the  garb  of  his 
calling,  before  he  plunges  into  the  lake,  on  whose 
further  shore  the  road  to  freedom  lies  open.  The 
bundle  he  leaves  on  the  bank  behind  him  is  the  mere 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    385 

shell  of  a  host  of  outworn  ideals  which  have  fallen 
away  from  him,  and  are  abandoned  on  the  threshold 
of  his  new  life. 

When  one  recalls  the  manner  in  which  this  subject 
has  been  treated  by  certain  modern  writers,  and  espe- 
cially by  George  Moore's  compatriots,  it  is  not  easy 
to  be  moderate  in  his  praise.  Add  to  this  the  tender 
beauty  of  the  pictures  forming  the  background  of  the 
story,  the  exquisite  shading  of  light  and  colour,  and 
the  sensitive  feeling  for  the  landscape  which  seems, 
indeed,  un  etat  d'ame,  so  perfectly  does  it  respond 
to  the  mood  of  the  priest.  Whether  so  intended,  or 
not,  like  its  companion  volume  of  short  stories,  The 
Lake  is  a  model  for  the  prose-writers  of  the  Revival. 
It  will  be  without  an  equal  until  the  long-awaited 
Irish  novelist  appears  who  can  continue  the  work 
which  George  Moore  so  excellently  began.  Neither 
hypersensitive  patriotism,  nor  a  too  strenuous  desire 
for  "literature  at  nurse,"  should  obscure  the  fact  that 
the  author  of  that  phrase  has  done  most  to  restore 
the  Anglo-Irish  novel  to  literature.  Those  who  have 
followed  him  cannot  be  regarded  as  having  helped 
materially  to  raise  the  status  of  the  novel.  William 
Buckley's  Croppies  lie  Down,  whose  publication  coin- 
cided with  that  of  The  Untilled  Field,  has  not  been 
able  to  realise  the  promise  of  that  powerful  and  well- 
written  study  of  the  Rebellion.  George  Birmingham's 
The  Seething  Pot  (1905)  and  Hyacinth  (1906),  although 
entertaining,  have  proved  to  be  merely  the  first  of  a 
number  of  works  which  have  since  made  the  author 
widely  known,  but  have  added  nothing  permanent 
to  our  contemporary  literature.  Their  vein  of  broad 
satire  has  so  widened  and  grown  that  the  resuscitation 
of  the  "stage  Irishman"  has  inevitably  followed.  So, 
too,  with  many  others; they  can  write  "a  good  story," 
and  when  this  has  been  realised  by  the  libraries,  they 


386   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

are  content  to  furnish  each  year  a  volume  or  two  of 
readable  fiction  for  circulation. 

Here  and  there  a  book  of  more  than  average  merit 
appears,  The  Old  Knowledge  (1901)  by  Stephen 
Gwynn;  The  Folk  of  Furry  Farm  (1914)  by  K.  F. 
Purdon;  James  Joyce's  curious  studies  of  lower-class 
city  life  in  Dubliners  (1914) — but  it  is  impossible  to 
base  any  hope  upon  these  isolated  works,  which  are 
rarely  the  beginning  of  a  continuous  effort.  Mrs. 
Martin's  Man  (1914)  was  the  occasion  of  much 
favourable  comment,  and  it  was  believed  that  an 
Ulster  novelist  had  been  discovered  in  St.  John  G. 
Ervine.  His  second  novel,  however,  dispelled  the 
illusion,  and  one  more  name  was  added  to  the  list 
of  "circulationists."  The  author  of  The  Folk  of 
Furry  Farm  was  similarly  well  received,  but  that 
volume,  original  as  it  is  in  many  respects,  is  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  Irish  Idylls  tradition.  The  novel,  as 
such,  continues  to  lack  support,  and  our  fiction  still 
affects  the  form  of  the  sketch  and  short  story.  Of 
the  latter,  Dermot  O'Byrne's  Children  of  the  Hills 
(1913)  showed  unusual  qualities,  and  announced  a 
new  writer  from  whom  good  work  may  be  reason- 
ably expected.  The  author  is  steeped  in  Gaelic  lore, 
and  the  old  language  and  history  are  an  essential 
part  of  his  art.  His  realism  is  the  realism  of  Synge, 
with  whom  he  has  many  points  in  common.  In  such 
grim  little  sketches  as  Hunger  and  The  Call  of  the 
Road,  there  is  something  of  Synge's  manner.  The 
angle  of  observation  is  the  same  as  that  from 
which  In  Wicklow,  West  Kerry  and  Connemara  was 
seen,  while  a  close  study  of  the  West  has  enabled  the 
younger  writer  to  achieve  the  same  success  as  his 
predecessor.  The  rhythmic,  highly  coloured  speech 
of  the  peasants  has  been  caught  by  an  ear  no  less 
sensitive  than  Synge's,  and  the  peculiar  atmosphere 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    387 

of  the  still  Celtic  Ireland  is  reproduced.  Yet  Dermot 
O'Byrne  has  resisted  the  temptation  to  imitate.  If 
he  cared  to  do  so,  he  could  evidently  parody  Synge 
in  such  a  fashion  as  to  defy  even  the  expert,  but  his 
stories  rarely  awaken  familiar  echoes.  Even  when 
a  turn  of  phrase  reminds  us  too  much  of  The  Play- 
boy, it  would  be  unfair  to  suggest  more  than  that  his 
original  material  was  the  same  as  Synge's.  His 
originality  is  evident,  for  the  mystic  imagination 
that  revealed  to  him  such  visions  as  The  Lifting  of  the 
Veil  and  Through  the  Rain  is  nowhere  perceptible  in 
Synge — the  one  writer  with  whom  he  may  legiti- 
mately be  compared. 

A  fine  gift  for  narrative  prose  was  revealed  by 
Padraic  Colum  in  his  volume  of  impressions,  My 
Irish  Year  (1912),  where  he  evokes  with  sympathetic 
charm  a  series  of  pictures  of  peasant  life  in  the  Irish 
Midlands.  The  author's  power  of  creating  atmos- 
phere, that  intangible  something  which  differen- 
tiates his  plays  from  those  of  his  contemporaries,  is 
nowhere  more  remarkable  than  in  this  work.  Much 
of  My  Irish  Year  might  be  classified  as  fiction,  so 
skilfully  has  Colum  blended  the  material  elements 
of  his  narrative  with  the  imaginative  qualities  of 
intuition  and  instinct.  No  mere  observer,  on  the 
outside  of  Irish  life,  could  have  reproduced  so  won- 
derfully the  soul  of  rural  Ireland.  Similarly,  in  a 
later  volume  of  prose,  A  Boy  in  Eirinn  (1913),  he 
contrives  to  invest  a  somewhat  matter-of-fact  pres- 
entation of  Irish  life  and  character  with  a  delicate 
suggestion  of  the  poetry  and  romance  of  child- 
hood. Padraic  Colum  is  obviously  qualified  to 
undertake  the  novel  for  which  the  Revival  has 
been  waiting. 

The  peculiar  circumstances  of  Irish  life, — the  pre- 
dominance of  a  rural  civilisation,  the  absence  of 


388    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

highly  developed  urban  communities  retaining  their 
racial  characteristics  to  the  same  degree  as  the  peas- 
antry— tend  to  retard  the  evolution  of  the  Irish 
novel.  William  Carleton,  our  greatest  novelist, 
showed,  in  the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
that  peasant  life  was  no  less  susceptible  of  being 
adapted  to  the  purposes  of  his  art  than  any  other 
phase  of  human  existence.  Carleton,  however,  had 
the  advantage  of  living  in  a  period  when  the  struggle 
for  life  in  Ireland  reached  its  maximum  intensity, 
amongst  precisely  those  communities  which  dwelt 
outside  the  range  of  urban  influences.  Famine, 
disease  and  the  political  and  social  disturbances  of 
his  century  all  combined  to  heighten  the  dramatic 
quality  of  the  material  at  the  novelist's  disposal. 
But  even  Carleton  could  not  escape  the  fate  which 
imposes  the  short  story  as  the  essential  form  of  Irish 
fiction.  His  Traits  and  Stories  of  the  Irish  Peasantry 
(1830-33)  is  remembered  by  many  who  have  for- 
gotten The  Black  Prophet  (1847),  his  finest  novel. 


LORD    DUNSANY   AND    JAMES    STEPHENS 

In  the  apparent  revival  of  the  art  of  fiction  during 
the  last  few  years  it  is  noteworthy  how  slight  is  the 
disposition  amongst  the  more  original  writers  to 
accept  the  novel  proper  as  their  medium.  Of  the 
new  prose  writers  the  two  most  important  cannot  be 
classed  among  the  novelists,  unless  a  much  looser 
definition  of  the  term  be  adopted.  Neither  Lord 
Dunsany  nor  James  Stephens  has  carried  on  the  tra- 
dition of  William  Carleton  or  George  Moore,  and  it 
is  impossible  to  associate  them  with  any  other 
writers  of  the  Revival.  They  form  a  class  in  them- 
selves, although  the  only  trait  uniting  them  is  an 
exuberance  of  fancy,  and  their  independence  of  the 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    389 

traditional  forms  of  fiction.  James  Stephens  began 
by  making  a  slight  concession  to  the  accepted  con- 
vention of  the  novel,  but  before  The  Charwoman's 
Daughter  had  reached  many  chapters  that  conven- 
tion was  abandoned.  Lord  Dunsany,  on  the  other 
hand,  has  conceded  only  so  much  in  his  short  stories 
as  to  suggest  their  ancestry  in  the  fairy  tale. 

In  1905  The  Gods  of  Pegana  passed  almost  unper- 
ceived  amidst  the  more  avowedly  Celtic  literature 
of  the  moment.  Indeed,  it  is  unlikely  that  many 
readers  who  then  saw  the  name  of  Lord  Dunsany 
for  the  first  time  would  have  associated  the  book 
with  the  Irish  movement  in  which  its  author  was  so 
generously  interested.  Coming  forward  as  the  cre- 
ator of  a  new  mythology,  he  could  not  readily  be 
identified  with  a  literary  tradition  whose  strength 
was  rooted  in  the  soil  of  Gaelic  legend  and  antiquity. 
Lord  Dunsany  invented  his  own  antiquity,  whose 
history  was  found  in  The  Gods  of  Pegana.  With  a 
strange  power  of  imagination  he  set  forth  the  hier- 
archy of  Pegana's  gods,  the  greater  and  minor  deities. 
Marvellous  Beings,  who  play  with  worlds  and  suns, 
with  life  and  death,  their  mere  nomenclature  is  full 
of  weird  suggestion.  There  is  not  an  event  in  the 
cosmic  evolution  known  to  us  which  Lord  Dunsany 
has  failed  to  elaborate  into  some  beautiful  legend. 
But,  whereas  the  first  volume  was  essentially  the 
record  of  a  new  theogony,  Time  and  the  Gods  (1908) 
is  a  collection  of  myths,  which  naturally  attach 
themselves  to  the  phenomena  witnessed  by  the  men 
whom  the  Pegana  deities  created  for  their  amuse- 
ment. In  allowing  his  fancy  to  interpret  the  great 
elemental  mysteries  of  nature,  the  rising  of  the  winds 
or  the  coming  of  light,  the  author  shows  the  same 
delicate  poetic  imagination  as  assisted  him  in  the 
creation  of  the  mighty  figures  who  peopled  his  orig- 


390  ^IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

inal  cosmos.  Yet,  with  a  true  sense  of  the  mythus, 
Lord  Dunsany  controls  fantasy,  so  that  he  is  never 
betrayed  into  any  conflict  with  the  natural  laws,  as 
understood  by  contemporary  science.  His  fable  of 
the  South  Wind,  for  example,  is  as  accurate  in  its 
representation  of  the  facts  as  it  is  charming  in  its 
tender  poetry. 

The  Leitmotiv  of  his  work,  whether  the  narrative  be 
of  gods  or  men,  is  the  mysterious  warfare  between 
the  phenomenal  world  and  the  forces  of  Time  and 
Change.  Even  the  "gods  of  Pegana"  live  beneath 
the  shadow  of  this  conflict  which  must  one  day  result 
in  their  overthrow.  Lord  Dunsany's  later  work,  The 
Sword  of  Wetter  an  (1908),  A  Dreamer's  Tales  (1910) 
and  The  Book  of  Wonder  (1912),  is  concerned  more 
specifically  with  this  aspect  of  existence.  Here  we 
learn  of  those  wonderful  cities,  Perdondaris  and 
Babbulkund,  whose  fabulous  beauties  are  obliter- 
ated in  a  moment  of  Time,  when  something  swift 
and  terrible  swallows  them  up,  leaving  only  the 
whispering  sands  above  them.  The  most  beautiful 
prose  the  author  has  written  is  in  these  stories,  be- 
ginning with  "In  the  Land  of  Time"  from  Time 
and  the  Gods,  which  tell  of  the  passing  away  of 
human  achievement  at  the  assault  of  nature  aided 
by  her  relentless  accomplices.  Yet  he  has  demon- 
strated his  mastery  of  the  grotesque  and  horrible 
in  tales  which  recall  those  of  Poe  or  Ambrose 
Bierce.  His  latest  collection,  entitled  Fifty-One 
Tales  (1915),  is  wholly  in  this  second  manner, 
although  the  fragmentary  nature  of  the  sketches 
hardly  gives  the  measure  of  his  power,  which  is  best 
seen  in  The  Sword  of  Welleran  and  A  Dreamer's  Tales. 
There  Lord  Dunsany  showed  a  wealth  of  bizarre  and 
terrible  fantasy  of  the  same  high  quality  as  char- 
acterised his  previous  essays  in  mythological  narra- 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    391 

tive.  The  latter,  however,  are  his  enduring  share  in 
the  reawakening  of  the  Celtic  imagination  of  which 
the  Literary  Revival  is  the  manifestation. 

While  Lord  Dunsany  has  been  the  most  neglected 
of  our  prose-writers  James  Stephens  has  enjoyed  a 
very  different  fate,  being  probably  the  best  known 
of  all  the  younger  generation.  It  has  rarely  been 
given  to  an  Irish  genius  so  national  to  become 
famous  in  the  short  space  of  three  years,  which  sep- 
arated his  first  little  book  of  verse,  Insurrections, 
from  The  Crock  of  Gold,  published  in  1912.  The 
same  year  saw  the  publication  of  his  first  prose  work, 
The  Charwoman's  Daughter,  and  his  second  volume  of 
poems,  The  Hill  of  Vision,  but  these  were  of  neces- 
sity somewhat  obscured  by  the  remarkable  success 
of  The  Crock  of  Gold.  As  was  suggested  in  reference 
to  his  verse,  the  poet  was  the  beneficiary  of  the 
prosaist.  It  may  be  said  that  everything  he  pub- 
lished at  that  time,  or  previously,  came  into  con- 
sideration as  a  consequent  and  subsequent  part  of 
that  success. 

The  immediate  popularity  of  James  Stephens  must 
be  attributed  to  the  fact  that  he  revealed  at  once 
his  power  to  use  prose  as  attractively  as  others  used 
verse.  The  Celtic  spirit  which  breathes  through  the 
poetry  of  the  Revival  is  at  last  felt  in  a  work  of 
prose  fiction,  which,  by  contrast  with  the  novels  and 
stories  of  previous  years,  seemed  a  wonderful  inno- 
vation. Yet  The  Crock  of  Gold  could  not  have  been 
a  surprise  to  those  who  read  The  Charwoman's 
Daughter  as  it  appeared  in  the  first  volume  of  The 
Irish  Review,  during  the  year  1911.  The  realism  of 
the  latter  story  of  the  Dublin  streets  could  not 
repress  the  irresistible  grotesquerie  and  good-humour, 
the  fanciful  charm  so  characteristic  of  the  better- 
known  book.  Mrs.  Makebelieve  and  her  daughter 


392    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

personified  a  side  of  their  creator's  mentality.  Like 
them  he  has  the  faculty  of  rising  above  reality  and 
transporting  himself  into  a  world  of  pure  fantasy. 
The  co-existence  of  the  ugly  material  facts  of  life 
with  the  beauty  of  an  imaginary  state,  as  shown  in 
the  lives  of  Mary  Makebelieve  and  her  mother,  is  a 
symbol  of  Stephens's  work.  He  is  eternally  hovering 
on  the  line  which  divides  the  sublime  from  the  ridic- 
ulous. He  crosses  it  with  an  insouciance  which 
comes,  not  from  a  lack  of  perception,  but  from  an 
innate  sense  of  the  relativeness  of  all  values. 

The  title  of  his  first  book  was  the  forecast  of  an 
attitude  towards  life  which  subsequent  works  have 
confirmed.  The  "insurrection"  of  James  Stephens  is 
the  revolt  of  an  unsophisticated  mind  against  unnat- 
ural decorum.  When  the  Philosopher  in  The  Crock  of 
Gold  goes  to  interview  Angus  Og,  his  frame  of  mind 
is  not,  perhaps,  as  reverential  as  might  be  expected 
from  a  man  who  desired  the  presence  of  such  a 
Being.  His  familiar  bonhomie  springs  from  a  con- 
viction of  the  necessary  humanity  of  one's  relations 
with  all  creatures,  heavenly  and  terrestrial.  Thus 
Stephens  will  contrive  the  conversation  of  a  fly,  a 
cow,  a  god  or  a  spider,  upon  the  assumption  of  a 
common  relationship  between  all  phenomena.  This 
is  not  a  mere  literary  artifice,  "sophisticated  infan- 
tilism," as  severe  critics  pronounce  it.  It  is  the 
reflection  of  the  author's  mind,  which  gambols  in 
naive  irreverence  about  the  gravest  problems. 

The  Crock  of  Gold  and  The  Demi-Gods  (1914),  his 
best  works,  are  naturally  most  typical  of  his  genius. 
At  the  same  time,  they  are  assertions  of  the  claim  of 
Irish  prose  to  undertake  some  of  the  functions  of 
poetry.  Not  that  the  author  is  prone  to  write  "prose 
poems";  or  to  indulge  in  word-painting  for  its  own 
sake.  But  his  narratives  are  interwoven  with  the 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    393 

mysticism  which  we  have  heretofore  found  in  A.  E., 
and  with  the  symbolism  which  has  induced  so  many 
people  to  consider  Yeats  as  a  mystic.  Irish  myth-^ 
ology  and  fairy  lore  are  skilfully  blended,  and  the 
general  impression  left  upon  the  reader  is  one  en- 
tirely different  from  that  of  any  other  Irish  story  or 
fairy  tale.  The  author's  gaminerie,  which  enables 
him  to  contemplate  the  Cosmos  with  charming 
familiarity,  has  served  him  well,  for  he  is  not  at  all 
disconcerted  when  his  fancy  takes  him  from  the 
domestic  quarrels  of  the  Philosopher  and  the  farcical 
proceedings  of  the  Policemen,  to  the  realms  of  Pan 
and  Angus  Og.  The  discourses  of  the  gods  are  as 
much  a  part  of  his  imaginative  life  as  were  of  his 
actual  life  the  charwomen,  policemen  and  vagrants 
whose  peculiarities  he  has  not  forgotten. 

The  dangers  of  this  attitude  were  exemplified  in 
Here  are  Ladies  (1913)  where  the  commonplace  and 
the  unusual  jostle  one  another,  this  time  to  the  dis- 
comfiture of  the  latter.  In  places  one  gets  a  glimpse 
of  the  author  of  The  Charwoman's  Daughter  and  The 
Crock  of  Gold,  as  in  the  grotesque  fantasy  of  The 
Threepenny  Piece,  and  in  the  delightful  reverie  of 
boyhood,  Three  Happy  Places,  where  Stephens's 
peculiar  power  of  visualising  the  outlook  of  a  boy 
is  exercised.  Pessimists  feared  at  one  time  that  he 
was  about  to  go  the  way  of  all  Irish  fiction  writers, 
but  The  Demi-Gods  has  justified  the  optimists. 
Without  breaking  new  ground  the  book  marks  an 
advance  upon  the  earlier  work  to  which  it  is  closely 
akin.  The  author  has  firmer  control  of  his  material, 
and  if  there  is  a  diminution  of  youthful  exuberance, 
it  is  compensated  by  a  note  of  deeper  maturity.  The 
Demi-Gods  surpasses,  where  it  does  not  equal,  The 
Crock  of  Gold,  which  contains  no  character  study  to 
compare  with  Patsy  MacCann.  These  two  works 


394   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

are  sufficient  to  secure  Stephens's  place  in  Anglo-Irish 
prose  literature. 

Whether  it  be  cause  or  effect,  against  the  absence 
of  the  novel  in  contemporary  Anglo-Irish  fiction 
must  be  set  a  large  collection  of  folk-tales  and  legends. 
The  retelling  of  the  old  stories  of  bardic  literature 
has  absorbed  the  energies  of  many  Irish  prose  writers 
in  recent  years,  apart  from  those  who  have  been 
engaged  in  the  work  of  translating  and  editing  the 
classic  texts  of  Gaelic  literature.  With  the  latter 
we  are  not  concerned,  except  to  note  that  this  in- 
creasing knowledge  of  the  Heroic  Age  has  widened 
the  field  of  tradition,  and  increased  the  resources  of 
our  poetry  and  drama.  Those,  however,  who  have 
contributed  to  the  process  of  popularisation  stand  in 
a  more  direct  relationship  to  Anglo-Irish  literature. 
Their  work  has  a  literary  rather  than  a  scientific 
interest,  and  attaches  itself  naturally  to  the  achieve- 
ment of  Standish  O'Grady  and  the  initiators  of  the 
Revival. 

Standish  O'Grady  had  published  his  History  of 
Ireland:  The  Heroic  Period  in  1878,  but  before  the 
second  volume  was  issued  there  appeared  P.  W. 
Joyce's  Old  Celtic  Romances  (1879),  "the  first  collec- 
tion of  the  old  Gaelic  prose  romances  that  has  ever 
been  published  in  fair  English  translation,"  as  the 
author  described  it  in  his  preface.  The  book  had 
none  of  the  fire  and  poetic  imagination  of  O'Grady's 
epic  history;  it  did  not,  therefore,  appeal  in  the 
same  way  to  the  young  poets  of  the  Eighties,  but  it 
was  the  forerunner  of  the  popular  literature  of  heroic 
Ireland.  Its  many  editions  prove  that  it  can  still 
survive  the  competition  of  numerous  successors, 
some,  fragmentary  and  fanciful,  like  Nora  Hopper's 
Ballads  in  Prose,  others,  serious  rivals,  such  as  The 
High  Deeds  of  Finn  (1910)  by  T.  W.  Rolleston,  where 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    395 

the  value  of  a  fine  series  of  retellings  is  enhanced  by 
the  inclusion  of  material  hitherto  untranslated.  Akin 
to  O'Grady's  Finn  and  his  Companions  is  the  recent 
volume,  Heroes  of  the  Dawn  (1913),  by  Violet  Russell, 
in  which  the  wife  of  the  poet  essays,  in  turn,  to 
bring  the  bardic  heroes  within  the  vision  of  boyhood. 
This  work  may  be  coupled  with  the  Celtic  Wonder- 
Tales  (1910)  of  Ella  Young  as  the  two  most  charming 
collections  of  children's  stories  published  in  Ireland 
for  many  years. 

Most  of  these  versions  have  shown  more  regard 
for  the  literary  and  artistic  quality  of  the  stories 
than  for  the  need  of  an  ordered  and  accurate  account 
of  the  bardic  narratives.  In  this  respect  the  best 
work  is  The  Cuchullin  Saga  in  Irish  Literature,  pub- 
lished by  Eleanor  Hull  in  1898.  A  volume  of  four- 
teen stories  embodying  the  history  of  Cuchulain,  it 
was  a  valuable  innovation  in  the  manner  of  collating 
the  Gaelic  material.  Its  introduction  and  notes, 
and  the  careful  selection  of  texts,  made  it  at  once  a 
literary  and  scholarly  contribution.  But  it  was  soon 
to  make  way  for  a  similar  volume  outside  the  domain 
of  scholarship,  identical  in  content,  but  very  different 
in  form. 

In  1902  Lady  Gregory  published  her  Cuchulain  of 
Muirthemne,  which  was  followed  in  1904  by  Gods 
and  Fighting  Men.  The  former  is  an  ordered  re- 
telling of  the  Cuchulain  legends,  the  latter  treats 
of  the  gods  and  the  Fianna,  but,  except  in  so  far  as 
it  follows  Eleanor  Hull's  choice  of  texts,  Lady 
Gregory's  work  is  very  dissimilar.  It  is  frankly  a 
blend  of  scholarship  and  imaginative  reconstruction. 
The  author  was  no  less  desirous  of  clarifying  the 
legendary  material  than  was  Eleanor  Hull,  but  she 
did  not  allow  considerations  of  fact  to  interfere  with 
the  success  of  her  undertaking.  Comparing  all  the 


396    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

translations  of  the  scholars,  she  has  co-ordinated  and 
compressed  them  into  a  homogeneous  narrative,  by 
the  simple  expedient  of  making  suppressions  and 
additions  of  her  own,  whenever  the  textual  versions 
threaten  to  disrupt  her  plan.  Literary  success  came 
immediately  to  justify  her  experiments,  but  compe- 
tent Gaelic  criticism  has  severely  condemned  a  pro- 
cedure'Vhich  has  had  the  effect  of  conveying  a  very 
false  idea  of  the  classic  age  and  literature  of  Ireland. 
Even  so  enthusiastic  a  commentator  and  apostle  of 
Celticism  as  Fiona  MacLeod  felt  constrained  to 
admit  the  superiority  of  The  Cuchullin  Saga  in  Irish 
Literature. 

Lady  Gregory's  "translations,"  however,  are  not 
to  be  judged  for  what  that  term  implies.  They  are 
not  so  much  translations  as  folk-versions  of  the  old 
saga,  adapted  to  literature.  Their  success  has  been 
mainly  amongst  readers  already  familiar  with  the 
correct  text,  or  with  those  whose  interest  was  of  a  less 
exacting  nature.  Both  could  submit  to  the  undeni- 
able charm  of  a  style  whose  archaic  flavour  seemed 
peculiarly  fitted  to  these  evocations  of  ancient 
times.  For  Lady  Gregory  is  the  first  and  only 
writer  of  the  Revival  to  employ  the  peasant  idiom 
in  narrative  prose.  That  Kiltartan  speech  with 
which  her  comedies  have  made  us  familiar  was  con- 
secrated to  literary  use  by  its  effective  elaboration 
in  Cuchulain  of  Muirthemne.  With  the  previous 
example  of  The  Love  Songs  of  Connacht  before  her, 
Lady  Gregory  was  encouraged  to  extend  the  scope 
of  Gaelicised  English  by  adopting  peasant  speech 
in  her  most  serious  contribution  to  Anglo-Irish  lit-  v< 
erature.  It  was  a  fine  literary  instinct  that  guided 
her  in  making  this  innovation,  for,  stripped  of  their 
language,  her  stories  of  Cuchulain  and  the  Fianna 
would  have  been  lost  in  the  almost  anonymous  mass 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    397 

of  similar  popularisation.  As  it  is,  she  has  been 
saluted  by  many  as  an  Irish  Malory,  and  her  work 
has  shared  in  the  general  admiration  for  the  beauties 
of  an  idiom  illustrated  shortly  afterwards  by  the 
genius  of  J.  M.  Synge.  The  young  writers  of  a 
generation  unfamiliar  with  the  emotion  aroused  by 
O'Grady,  in  the  distant  days  when  his  rehandling 
of  the  bardic  material  was  a  revelation,  may  derive 
from  Lady  Gregory's  pages  that  enthusiasm  for 
heroic  beauty  which  inspired  the  first  movement  of 
the  Revival. 

The  literature  of  the  Celtic  Renaissance  has  been 
predominantly  the  creation  of  poets  and  dramatists, 
and  in  retrospect  it  presents  a  somewhat  unequal 
appearance,  owing  to  the  absence  of  prose  writers. 
The  novel  has  fared  badly,  but  criticism  has  fared 
worse,  being  unrepresented,  except  for  the  intermit- 
tent essays  of  John  Eglinton,  and  that  interesting, 
if  isolated,  work  of  collaboration,  Literary  Ideals  in 
Ireland,  of  which  some  account  has  been  given.  The 
aesthetic  reveries  of  W.  B.  Yeats,  like  the  scattered 
articles  of  A.  E.  and  others,  do  not  bear  witness  to 
any  deliberate  critical  effort  on  their  part.  Impartial 
criticism  is  a  more  than  usually  delicate  task  where 
a  small  country  like  Ireland  is  concerned.  When  the 
intellectual  centre  is  confined  within  a  restricted 
area,  personal  relations  are  unavoidable,  and  the 
critic  finds  discretion  imperative,  if  he  is  to  continue 
to  dwell  peaceably  in  the  midst  of  his  friends.  Nev- 
ertheless, the  Irish  reviews  have  not  shrunk  from 
publishing  the  most  candid  criticism,  and  if  little  of 
this  material  has  been  collected,  it  is  the  fault  of  the 
critics.  An  interesting  and  hopeful  innovation  was 
the  publication  of  Thomas  MacDonagh's  Literature 
in  Ireland.  This  thoughtful  volume  of  "studies  in 
Irish  and  Anglo-Irish"  was  published  shortly  after 


398    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

the  author's  execution,  and  promised  to  be  an  intro- 
duction to  further  works  of  a  similar  character. 
MacDonagh  was  well  equipped  for  the  task  he  had 
set  himself,  and  this  book  is  an  important  contribu- 
tion to  the  study  of  Anglo-Irish  poetry. 

The  effect  upon  the  literature  of  the  smaller  coun- 
tries of  this  absence  of  critical  judgment,  publicly 
expressed,  has  been  that  honest  criticism  prefers  to 
be  silent  where  it  cannot  praise.  Consequently,  there 
is  lack  of  intellectual  discipline  which  allows  the 
good  and  the  mediocre  to  struggle  on  equal  terms  for 
recognition.  In  Ireland  we  have  become  accus- 
tomed to  hearing  Irish  writers  either  enthusiastically 
advertised  by  the  English  press,  or  denounced  as 
charlatans,  usurping  the  fame  reserved  for  the  gen- 
uine heirs  of  England's  literary  glory.  The  phe- 
nomenon rarely  calls  for  more  than  casual  attention, 
so  fortuitous  does  it  seem.  Yet,  so  far  as  it  has  any 
reasonable  basis,  it  may  be  traced  to  our  habit  of 
allowing  every  writer  who  so  desires  to  submit  his 
work  to  outside  criticism  on  the  same  terms  as  our 
most  distinguished  literary  representatives.  We  can- 
not expect  others  to  show  more  discrimination  than 
ourselves,  and  when  the  storm  of  facile  applause  has 
broken  over  the  head  of  the  confiding  poet  or  drama- 
tist, we  need  not  be  surprised  if  some  spirit  more 
enquiring  than  the  others  leads  an  abusive  reaction. 
So  long  as  we  continue  to  have  our  criticism  written 
for  us  by  journalists  in  England  these  disconcerting 
alternations  of  idolatry  and  contempt  will  follow 
Irish  literature  abroad. 

However  flattering  the  cult  of  Celticism  may  seem 
to  us,  it  is  unwise  to  attach  any  significance  to  it. 
Anglo-Irish  literature,  as  a  whole,  has  not  grown 
up  to  meet  the  desires  of  the  devotees  of  this  cult, 
but  to  meet  the  need  of  Ireland  for  self-expression. 


FICTION  AND  NARRATIVE  PROSE    399 

Should  it  incidentally  produce  a  writer  of  such  pro- 
portions as  to  entitle  him  to  a  place  in  comparative 
literary  history,  let  us,  by  all  means,  encourage  him 
to  challenge  the  attention  of  the  outside  world.  The 
main  purpose,  however,  of  the  Literary  Revival  has 
not  been  to  contribute  to  English  literature,  but  to 
create  a  national  literature  for  Ireland,  in  the  lan- 
guage which  has  been  imposed  upon  her — a  circum- 
stance which  effectively  disposes  of  the  theory  that 
Ireland  is  merely  an  intellectual  province  of  England. 
The  provincial  Irishman  is  he  who  prefers  to  identify 
himself  with  the  literary  movement  of  another  coun- 
try but  his  own,  and  those  writers  who  have  ad- 
dressed themselves  to  the  English,  rather  than  to  the 
Irish,  public  are  obviously  in  that  category.  They 
are  always  expatriates  to  their  adopted  countrymen. 

The  only  question,  therefore,  which  must  be 
answered  by  such  a  survey  as  the  present  is :  has  the 
Literary  Renaissance  accomplished  its  purpose?  Has 
it  given  us  a  body  of  work  which  may  fairly  be  de- 
scribed as  the  nucleus  of  a  national  literature?  In 
spite  of  various  weaknesses,  it  seems  as  if  Anglo-Irish 
literature  had  proved  its  title  to  be  considered  as  an 
independent  entity.  It  has  not  altogether  escaped  the 
literary  traditions  of  the  language  in  which  it  is 
written,  but  it  has  shown  a  more  marked  degree  of 
originality,  in  respect  of  form  and  content,  than 
Belgian  or  any  other  literature  similarly  dominated 
by  a  powerful  neighbour.  Possessing  the  advantage, 
denied  to  Switzerland  and  Belgium,  of  a  great  native 
literature,  with  all  the  traditions  thereby  implied, 
Ireland  has  been  able  to  mould  her  second  language 
according  to  the  literary  genius  of  the  race. 

It  does  not  matter  in  the  least  whether  the  poetry 
of  the  Revival  deserves,  or  does  not  deserve,  the 
honours  which  enthusiasts  have  claimed  for  it.  We 


400   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

must,  first  of  all,  determine  whether  the  literature  of 
the  Revival  is  really  national,  and  then  attempt  to 
estimate  the  relative  importance  of  those  who  created 
it.  If  this  history  has  helped  in  any  way  to  attain 
that  object,  it  will  have  corresponded  to  the  intention 
with  which  it  was  conceived.  Comparative  criticism 
will  in  due  course  decide  that  question  which  obsesses 
certain  minds,  namely:  is  W.  B.  Yeats  a  greater 
poet  than  Shelley?  France  did  not  assign  his  status 
to  her  supreme  poetic  genius,  Racine,  by  reference  to 
Dante  and  Shakespeare.  National  (or  local)  values 
invariably  take  precedence  of  international,  however 
disappointing  that  fact  may  seem  to  lovers  of  the 
absolute. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  following  bibliography  is  intended  primarily  as  a  sum- 
mary of  the  achievement  of  the  Literary  Renaissance  in  Ireland. 
In  the  case  of  the  more  important  writers  a  complete  list  of 
their  works  has  been  given,  although  many  of  these  do  not 
fall  within  the  scope  of  this  book.  Similarly,  names  will  be 
found  here  which  did  not  seem  of  sufficient  importance  to 
necessitate  their  inclusion  in  the  text.  Works  of  fiction  having 
no  relation  either  to  literature  in  general,  or  to  the  history  of 
the  Revival  in  particular,  have  been  omitted. 

As  detailed  statements  of  the  plays  produced  by  the  Irish 
Players  are  available  elsewhere,  only  the  more  significant 
dramatists  have  been  included. 

In  every  instance  the  dates  given  are  those  of  first  publica- 
tion in  book  form. 

A  few  works  announced  for  publication  have  been  included. 

A.  E.   (GEORGE  W.  RUSSELL) 

Homeward:  Songs  by  the  Way,  1894.  The  Future  of  Ireland 
and  the  Awakening  of  the  Fires,  1897.  Ideals  in  Ireland:  Priest 
or  Hero?,  1897.  The  Earth  Breath,  1897.  Literary  Ideals  in  Ire- 
land, 1899  (in  collaboration).  Ideals  in  Ireland,  1901  (in  collabora- 
tion). The  Nuts  of  Knowledge,  1903.  Controversy  in  Ireland, 
1904.  The  Divine  Vision,  1904.  The  Mask  of  Apollo,  1904. 
New  Poems,  1904  (edited).  By  Still  Waters,  1906.  Some  Irish 
Essays,  1906.  Deirdre,  1907.  The  Hero  in  Man,  1909.  The 
Renewal  of  Youth,  1911.  The  United  Irishwomen,  1912  (in  col- 
laboration). Co-operation  and  Nationality,  1912.  The  Rural 
Community,  1913.  Collected  Poems,  1913.  Gods  of  War  and 
other  Poems,  1915.  Imaginations  and  Reveries,  1915. 

WILLIAM  ALLINGHAM  (1824-1889) 

Poems,  1850.  Peace  and  War,  1854.  Day  and  Night  Songs, 
1854.  The  Music  Master,  1855.  Laurence  Bloomfield  in  Ireland, 

401 


402   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

1864.  Fifty  Modern  Poems,  1865.  Songs,  Ballads  and  Stories, 
1877.  Ashby  Manor,  1882.  Evil  May  Day,  1883.  The  Fairies, 
1883.  Irish  Songs  and  Poems,  1887.  Rhymes  for  the  Young 
Folk,  1887.  Flower  Pieces  and  other  Poems,  1888.  Life  and 
Phantasy,  1889.  Thought  and  Word,  1890.  Varieties  in  Prose, 
3  vols.,  1893.  Blackberries,  1896.  Sixteen  Poems,  1905  (edited 
by  W.  B.  Yeats). 

JANE  BARLOW 

Bogland  Studies,  1892.  Irish  Idylls,  1892.  Kerrigan's  Quality, 
1893.  The  Battle  of  the  Frogs  and  Mice,  1894.  The  End  of 
Elfintown,  1894.  Maureen's  Fairing,  1895.  Strangers  at  Lis- 
connell,  1895.  Mrs.  Martin's  Company,  1896.  A  Creel  of  Irish 
Stories,  1897.  From  the  East  unto  the  West,  1898.  From  the 
Land  of  the  Shamrock,  1900.  The  Ghost-Bereft,  1901.  The 
Founding  of  Fortunes,  1902.  By  Beach  and  Bog  Land,  1905. 
Irish  Neighbours,  1907.  The  Mockers  and  other  Verses,  1908. 
Irish  Ways,  1909.  Flaws,  1911.  Mac's  Adventures,  1911. 
Doings  and  Dealings,  1913. 

WILLIAM  BOYLE 

A  Kish  of  Brogues,  1899.  The  Building  Fund,  1905.  The  Elo- 
quent Dempsey,  1907.  The  Mineral  Workers,  1907.  Family 
Failing,  1913. 

WILLIAM  BUCKLEY 

Croppies  Lie  Down,  1903.    Gambia  Carty,  1907. 

SHAN  F.  BULLOCK 

The  Awkward  Squads,  1893.  By  Thrasna  River,  1895.  Ring 
O'  Rushes,  1896.  The  Charmer,  1897.  The  Barrys,  1899.  Irish 
Pastorals,  1901.  The  Squireen,  1903.  The  Red  Leaguers,  1904. 
Dan  the  Dollar,  1905.  The  Cubs,  1906.  Robert  Thome,  1907. 
Master  John,  1909.  Hetty,  1911.  Thomas  Andrews,  1912.  The 
Race  of  Castlebar,  1913  (in  collaboration). 

ETHNA  CARBERY  (ANNA  MACMANUS) 
1866-1902 

The  Four  Winds  of  Eirinn,  1902.  The  Passionate  Hearts,  1903. 
In  the  Celtic  Past,  1904. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  403 

PADRAIC  COLUM 

New  Songs,  1904  (in  collaboration).  The  Land,  1905.  The 
Fiddler's  House,  1907.  Studies,  1907.  Whitman,  1907  (edited). 
Wild  Earth,  1907.  Thomas  Muskerry,  1910.  Eyes  of  Youth, 
1910  (in  collaboration).  The  Desert,  1912.  My  Irish  Year,  1912. 
Oliver  Goldsmith,  1913  (edited).  A  Boy  in  Eirinn,  1913.  Broad 
Sheet  Ballads,  1913  (edited).  Gerald  Griffin,  1916  (edited). 
Poems  of  the  Irish  Revolutionary  Brotherhood,  1916  (edited).  The 
King  of  Ireland's  Son,  1916. 

JAMES  H.  COUSINS 

Ben  Madighan,  1894.  The  Legend  of  the  Blemished  King,  1897. 
The  Voice  of  One,  1901.  The  Quest,  1906.  The  Awakening,  1907. 
The  Bell-Branch,  1908.  Etain  the  Beloved,  1912.  The  Wisdom 
of  the  West,  1912.  The  Bases  of  Theosophy,  1913.  War:  A 
Theosophical  View,  1914.  Straight  and  Crooked,  1915. 

LORD  DUNSANY 

The  Gods  of  Pegana,  1905.  Time  and  the  Gods,  1906.  The 
Sword  of  Welleran,  1908.  A  Dreamer's  Tales,  1910.  The  Book 
of  Wonder,  1912.  Five  Plays,  1914.  Fifty-One  Tales,  1915.  The 
Last  Book  of  Wonder,  1916. 

JOHN  EGLINTON  (W.  K.  MAGEE) 

Two  Essays  on  the  Remnant,  1895.  Literary  Ideals  in  Ireland, 
1899  (in  collaboration).  Pebbles  from  a  Brook,  1901.  Some 
Essays  and  Passages,  1905  (edited  by  W.  B.  Yeats).  Bards  and 
Saints,  1906. 

ST.  JOHN  G.  ERVINE 

Mixed  Marriage,  1911.  The  Magnanimous  Lover,  1912.  Eight 
O'Clock  and  other  Studies,  1912.  Four  Plays,  1914.  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin's Man,  1914.  Jane  Clegg,  1914.  Alice  and  a  Family,  1915. 
John  Ferguson,  1915.  Sir  Edward  Carson,  1915. 

SIR  SAMUEL  FERGUSON  (1810-1886) 

Inheritor  and  Economist,  1849.  Dublin,  1849.  The  Cromlech 
on  Howth,  1864.  Lays  of  the  Western  Gael,  1865.  Congal, 
1872.  Deirdre,  1880.  Poems,  1880.  The  Forging  of  the  Anchor, 
1883.  The  Hibernian  Nights'  Entertainments,  3  vols.,  1887. 
The  Remains  of  St.  Patrick,  1888.  Lays  of  the  Red  Branch,  1897. 


4o4    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 
DARRELL  FIGGIS 

A  Vision  of  Life,  1909.  The  Crucibles  of  Time,  1911.  Shake- 
speare: A  Study,  1911.  Broken  Arcs,  1911.  Studies  and  Appre- 
ciations, 1912.  Queen  Tara,  1913.  Jacob  Elthorne,  1914.  The 
Mount  of  Transfiguration,  1915.  A.  E.:  A  Study  of  a  Man  and  a 
Nation,  1916.  Carleton's  Stories  of  Irish  Life,  1916  (edited). 


GEORGE  FITZMAURICE 
The  Country  Dressmaker,  1914.    Five  Plays,  1914. 

EVA  GORE-BOOTH 

Poems,  1898.  Unseen  Kings,  1904.  The  One  and  the  Many, 
1904.  The  Three  Resurrections  and  the  Triumph  of  Maeve,  1905. 
The  Egyptian  Pillar,  1907.  The  Perilous  Light,  1915. 

ALFRED  PERCEVAL  GRAVES 

Songs  of  Killarney,  1873.  Irish  Songs  and  Ballads,  1880. 
Joseph  Sheridan  Lef ami's  Purcell  Papers,  1879-1880  (edited). 
Lays  and  Lyrics  of  the  Pan-Celtic  Society,  1889  (in  collaboration). 
Father  O'Flynn  and  other  Irish  Lyrics,  1889.  Songs  of  Irish  Wit 
and  Humour,  1894.  The  Irish  Song  Book,  1894.  Sheridan 
Lefanu's  Poems,  1896  (edited).  Songs  of  Erin,  1900.  The  Irish 
Poems  of  A.  P.  Graves,  2  vols.,  1908.  The  Irish  Fairy  Book,  1909. 
Welsh  Poetry  Old  and  New,  1912.  Irish  Literary  and  Musical 
Studies,  1913.  Harpstrings  of  the  Irish  Gael,  1914  (edited).  The 
Book  of  Irish  Poetry,  1915  (edited).  •  Sir  Samuel  Ferguson's 
Poems,  1916  (edited). 

LADY  GREGORY 

Cuchulain  of  Muirthemne,  1902.  Poets  and  Dreamers,  1903. 
Gods  and  Fighting  Men,  1904.  Kincora,  1905.  The  White 
Cockade,  1905.  A  Book  of  Saints  and  Wonders,  1906.  Spreading 
the  News  and  other  Comedies,  1907.  The  Unicorn  from  the 
Stars,  1908  (in  collaboration).  Seven  Short  Plays,  1909.  The 
Kiltartan  History  Book,  1909.  The  Kil tartan  Wonder  Book, 
1910.  The  Kiltartan  Moliere,  1910.  The  Image,  1910.  Irish 
Folk  History  Plays,  2  vols.,  1912.  New  Comedies,  1913.  Our 
Irish  Theatre,  1913.  The  Golden  Apple,  1916. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  405 

NORA  HOPPER  (1871-1906) 

Ballads  in  Prose,  1894.  Under  Quicken  Boughs,  1896.  Songs  of 
the  Morning,  1900.  Aquamarines,  1902.  Selected  Poems,  5  vols., 
1906. 

*DOUGLAS  HYDE 

Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young  Ireland,  1888  (in  collaboration). 
Lays  and  Lyrics  of  the  Pan-Celtic  Society,  1889  (in  collaboration). 
Beside  the  Fire,  1890.  The  Love  Songs  of  Connacht,  1893.  The 
Revival  of  Irish  Literature,  1894  (in  collaboration).  The  Three 
Sorrows  of  Storytelling,  1895.  The  Story  of  Early  Gaelic  Litera- 
ture, 1897.  A  Literary  History  of  Ireland,  1899.  Ideals  in  Ireland, 
1901  (in  collaboration).  Irish  Poetry,  1903.  Songs  ascribed  to 
Raftery,  1903.  The  Religious  Songs  of  Connacht,  1906.  Legends 
of  Saints  and  Sinners,  1915  (edited). 

LIONEL  JOHNSON   (1867-1902) 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh  in  the  Tower,  1885.  The  Book  of  the 
Rhymers'  Club,  1892  (in  collaboration).  The  Second  Book  of  the 
Rhymers'  Club,  1894  (in  collaboration).  Poems,  1895.  Tne  Art 
of  Thomas  Hardy,  1896.  Ireland  and  other  Poems,  1897.  Twenty- 
one  Poems,  1904  (edited  by  W.  B.  Yeats).  Selections  from  the 
Poems  of  Lionel  Johnson,  1908.  Poetry  and  Ireland,  1908  (in 
collaboration).  Post  Liminium,  1911.  Collected  Poems,  1915. 

THOMAS  KEOHLER 

New  Songs,  1904  (in  collaboration).    Songs  of  a  Devotee,  1906. 

WILLIAM  LARMINIE   (1850-1899) 

Glanlua,  1889.  Fand,  1892.  West  Irish  Folk  Tales,  1893. 
Literary  Ideals  in  Ireland,  1899  (in  collaboration). 

EMILY  LAWLESS  (1845-1913) 

A  Millionaire's  Cousin,  1885.  Hurrish,  2  vols.,  1886.  Major 
Lawrence,  F.  L.  S.,  3  vols.,  1887.  The  Story  of  Ireland,  1887. 
Plain  Frances  Mowbray,  1889.  With  Essex  in  Ireland,  1890. 
Crania,  1892.  Maelcho,  1894.  Traits  and  Confidences,  1898.  A 

*  Works  in  Gaelic  are  not  included. 


406  'IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 

Garden  Diary,  1901.  With  the  Wild  Geese,  1902.  Maria  Edge- 
worth,  1904.  The  Book  of  Gilly,  1906.  The  Point  of  View,  1909. 
The  Race  of  Castlebar,  1913  (in  collaboration).  The  Inalienable 
Heritage  and  other  Poems,  1914. 

SEOSAMH  MACCATHMHAOIL 
(JOSEPH  CAMPBELL) 

The  Songs  of  Uladh,  1904.  The  Garden  of  the  Bees,  1905.  The 
Rushlight,  1906.  The  Man  Child,  1907.  The  Gilly  of  Christ, 
1907.  The  Mountainy  Singer,  1909.  Mearing  Stones,  1911. 
Judgment,  1912.  Irishry,  1914. 

THOMAS  MACDONAGH  (1884-1916) 

Through  the  Ivory  Gate,  1903.  April  and  May,  1904.  The 
Golden  Joy,  1906.  When  the  Dawn  is  come,  1908.  Songs  of 
Myself,  1910.  Thomas  Campion  and  the  Art  of  English  Poetry, 
1913.  Lyrical  Poems,  1913.  Literature  in  Ireland,  1916. 

SEUMAS  MACMANUS 

Shuilers  from  Heathy  Hills,  1893.  The  Leading  Road  to  Done- 
gal, 1896.  'Twas  in  Dhroll  Donegal,  1897.  The  Bend  of  the 
Road,  1897.  The  Humours  of  Donegal,  1898.  Through  the 
Turf  Smoke,  1899.  In  Chimney  Corners,  1899.  The  Bewitched 
Fiddle,  1900.  Donegal  Fairy  Stories,  1902.  The  Red  Poocher, 

1903.  A  Lad  of  the  O'Friels,  1903.    The  Hard-Hearted  Man, 

1904.  Ballads  of  a  Country  Boy,  1905.    The  Woman  of  Seven 
Sorrows,  1905.    Plays,  1906.    Dr.  Kilgannon,  1907.    Yourself  and 
the  Neighbours,  1914. 

JAMES  CLARENCE  MANGAN  (1803-1849) 

Anthologia  Germanica,  1845.  Poets  and  Poetry  of  Munster 
(First  Series),  1850.  The  Tribes  of  Ireland,  1852.  Poems,  1859 
(edited  by  John  Mitchel).  Essays  in  Prose  and  Verse,  1884. 
Selected  Poems,  1897  (edited  by  Louise  J.  Guiney).  Life  and 
Writings,  1897  (by  D.  J.  O'Donoghue).  Prose  Writings,  1903. 
Poems,  1904. 

EDWARD  MARTYN 

Morgan te  the  Lesser,  1890  (pseudonym  "Sirius")*  Maeve  and 
the  Heather  Field,  1899.  The  Tale  of  a  Town  and  An  Enchanted 
Sea,  1902.  Grangecolman,  1912. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  407 

RUTHERFORD  MAYNE  (S.  WADDELL) 

The  Turn  of  the  Road,  1907.  The  Drone,  1909.  The  Troth, 
1909.  Collected  Plays,  1912. 

ALICE  MILLIGAN 

The  Last  Feast  of  the  Fianna,  1900.  New  Songs,  1904  (in 
collaboration).  Hero  Lays,  1908. 

SUSAN  MITCHELL 

New  Songs,  1904  (in  collaboration).  The  Living  Chalice,  1908. 
Aids  to  the  Immortality  of  Certain  Persons  in  Ireland,  1908. 
Collected  Poems,  2  vols.,  1913.  George  Moore,  Dublin,  1916. 

GEORGE  MOORE 

Flowers  of  Passion,  1878.  Martin  Luther,  1879  (in  collabora- 
tion). Pagan  Poems,  1881.  A  Modern  Lover,  3  vols.,  1883.  A 
Mummer's  Wife,  1885.  Literature  at  Nurse,  1885.  A  Drama  in 
Muslin,  1886.  A  Mere  Accident,  1887.  Parnell  and  His  Island, 
1887.  Confessions  of  a  Young  Man,  1888.  Spring  Days,  1888. 
Mike  Fletcher,  1889.  Impressions  and  Opinions,  1891.  Vain 
Fortune,  1891.  Modern  Painting,  1893.  The  Strike  at  Arling- 
ford,  1893.  Esther  Waters,  1894.  Celibates,  1895.  Evelyn 
Innes,  1898.  The  Bending  of  the  Bough,  1900.  Ideals  in  Ireland, 
1901  (in  collaboration).  Sister  Teresa,  1901.  The  Untilled  Field, 
1903.  The  Lake,  1905.  Memoirs  of  My  Dead  Life,  1906.  Rem- 
iniscences of  the  Impressionist  Painters,  1906.  The  Apostle,  1911. 
Ave,  1911.  Salve,  1912.  Esther  Waters.  A  Play,  1913.  Eliza- 
beth Cooper,  1913.  Vale,  1914.  The  Untilled  Field,  1914  (en- 
larged edition).  Muslin,  1915  (revised  edition  of  A  Drama  in 
Muslin).  The  Brook  Kerith,  1916. 

T.  C.  MURRAY 

Birthright,  1911.    Maurice  Harte,  1912. 

DERMOT  O'BYRNE  (ARNOLD  BAX) 

Seafoam  and  Firelight,  1910.  The  Sisters  and  Green  Magic, 
1911.  Children  of  the  Hills,  1913. 


4o8    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 
STANDISH  O'GRADY 

History  of  Ireland:  The  Heroic  Period,  Vol.  I,  1878.  Early 
Bardic  Literature,  1879.  History  of  Ireland:  Cuculain  and  his 
Contemporaries,  Vol.  II,  1880.  History  of  Ireland:  Critical  and 
Philosophical,  Vol.  I,  1881.  The  Crisis  in  Ireland,  1882.  Cucu- 
lain: An  Epic,  1882.  Toryism  and  the  Tory  Democracy,  1886. 
Red  Hugh's  Captivity,  1889.  Finn  and  his  Companions,  1892. 
The  Bog  of  Stars,  1893.  The  Coming  of  Cuculain,  1894.  Lost  on 
Du  Corrig,  1894.  The  Chain  of  Gold,  1895.  In  the  Wake  of  King 
James,  1896.  Pacata  Hibernia,  1896  (edited).  Ulrick  the  Ready, 
1896.  The  Flight  of  the  Eagle,  1897.  All  Ireland,  1898.  Queen 
of  the  World,  1900  (pseudonym  Luke  Netterville).  In  the  Gates 
of  the  North,  1901.  Ideals  in  Ireland,  1901  (in  collaboration). 
Hugh  Roe  O'Donnell,  1902.  The  Masque  of  Finn,  1907. 

SEUMAS  O'KELLY 

By  the  Stream  of  Killmeen,  1902.  The  Matchmakers,  1908. 
The  Shuiler's  Quid,  1909.  Three  Plays,  1912.  The  Bribe,  1914. 

MORIA  O'NEILL  (MRS.  M.  SKRINE) 

An  Easter  Vacation,  1893.  The  Elf  Errant,  1895.  Songs  from 
the  Glens  of  Antrim,  1900. 

SEUMAS  O'SULLIVAN  (JAMES  STARKEY) 

New  Songs,  1904  (in  collaboration).  The  Twilight  People,  1905. 
Verse  Sacred  and  Profane,  1908.  The  Earth  Lover,  1909.  Se- 
lected Lyrics,  1910  (with  a  Preface  by  A.  E.).  Impressions,  being 
a  Selection  from  the  Note-books  of  the  late  J.  H.  Orwell,  with  a 
Foreword  by  the  Editor,  1911.  Poems,  1912  (collected  edition). 
An  Epilogue  to  the  Praise  of  Angus,  1914. 

LENNOX  ROBINSON 

The  Cross  Roads,  1911.  Two  Plays,  1911.  Patriots,  1912. 
The  Dreamers,  1915. 

T.  W.  ROLLESTON 

The  Encheiridon  of  Epictetus,  1881.  Uber  Wordsworth  und 
Walt  Whitman,  1883.  The  Teaching  of  Epictetus,  1886.  Poems 
and  Ballads  of  Young  Ireland,  1888  (in  collaboration).  Grashalme 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  409 

(Leaves  of  Grass),  1889  (German  translation  in  collaboration). 
The  Prose  Writings  of  Thomas  Davis,  1889  (edited).  The  Book  of 
the  Rhymers*  Club,  1892  (in  collaboration).  The  Second  Book 
of  the  Rhymers'  Club,  1894  (in  collaboration).  A  Treasury  of 
Irish  Poetry,  1900  (in  collaboration).  Imagination  and  Art  in 
Gaelic  Literature,  1900.  Parallel  Paths,  1908.  Sea  Spray:  Verses 
and  Translations,  1909.  The  High  Deeds  of  Finn,  1910.  Myths 
and  Legends  of  the  Celtic  Race,  1911.  Tannhauser,  1911.  The 
Story  of  Parsifal,  1912.  Lohengrin,  1913.  Sacred  and  Profane 
Love:  A  Trilogy  after  Richard  Wagner,  1915.  Thomas  Davis: 
Selections  from  his  Prose  and  Poetry,  1915  (edited). 

DORA  SIGERSON  SHORTER 

Lays  and  Lyrics  of  the  Pan-Celtic  Society,  1889  (in  collabora- 
tion). Verses,  1893.  The  Fairy  Changeling,  1898.  My  Lady's 
Slipper,  1898.  Ballads  and  Poems,  1899.  The  Woman  who  went 
to  Hell,  1902.  As  the  Sparks  Fly  Upward,  1903.  The  Song  and 
Story  of  Earl  Roderick,  1905.  Collected  Poems,  1907.  The  Trou- 
badour, 1910.  New  Poems,  1912.  Madge  Linsey  and  other 
Poems,  1913.  Love  of  Ireland:  Poems  and  Ballads,  1914. 

GEORGE  SIGERSON 

The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  Munster,  1860.  Poems  and  Ballads  of 
Young  Ireland,  1888  (in  collaboration).  The  Revival  of  Irish 
Literature,  1894  (in  collaboration).  Bards  of  the  Gael  and  Gall, 
1897.  The  Saga  of  King  Lir,  1913. 

JAMES  STEPHENS 

Insurrections,  1909.  The  Charwoman's  Daughter,  1912.  The 
Hill  of  Vision,  1912.  The  Crock  of  Gold,  1912.  Here  are  Ladies, 
1913.  Five  New  Poems,  1913.  The  Demi-Gods,  1914.  Songs 
from  the  Clay,  1915.  The  Adventures  of  Seumas  Beg,  1915. 

J.  M.   SYNGE   (1871-1909) 

Riders  to  the  Sea.  In  the  Shadow  of  the  Glen,  1905.  The  Well 
of  the  Saints,  1905.  The  Playboy  of  the  Western  World,  1907. 
The  Aran  Islands,  1907.  The  Tinker's  Wedding,  1908.  Poems 
and  Translations,  1909.  Deirdre,  1910.  Collected  Works,  4  vols., 
1910. 


410   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 
JOHN  TODHUNTER 

Laurella  and  other  Poems,  1876.  Alkestis,  1879.  A  Study  of 
Shelley,  1880.  Forest  Songs,  1881.  The  True'Tragedy  of  Rienzi, 
1882.  Helen  in  Troas,  1885.  Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young  Ire- 
land, 1888  (in  collaboration).  The  Banshee  and  other  Poems,  1888. 
How  Dreams  Come  True,  1890.  A  Sicilian  Idyll,  1891.  The 
Poison  Flower,  1891.  The  Book  of  the  Rhymers'  Club,  1892  (in 
collaboration).  The  Second  Book  of  the  Rhymers'  Club,  1894 
(in  collaboration).  Life  of  Sarsfield,  1895.  Three  Bardic  Tales, 
1896.  Sounds  and  Sweet  Airs,  1905.  Heine's  Book  of  Songs, 
1907  (translation). 

KATHARINE  TYNAN    (MRS.   K.   HINKSON) 

Louise  de  la  Valliere,  1885.  Shamrocks,  1887.  Poems  and 
Ballads  of  Young  Ireland,  1888  (in  collaboration).  Lays  and 
Lyrics  of  the  Pan-Celtic  Society,  1889  (in  collaboration).  Ballads 
and  Lyrics,  1891.  Irish  Love  Songs,  1892  (edited).  Cuckoo 
Songs,  1894.  Our  Lord's  Coming  and  Childhood:  Six  Miracle 
Plays,  1895.  A  Lover's  Breastknot,  1896.  The  Wind  in  the  Trees, 
1898.  Poems,  1901.  Innocencies,  1905.  Twenty-one  Poems, 
1907  (edited  by  W.  B.  Yeats).  Rhymed  Life  of  St.  Patrick,  1907. 
Experiences,  1908.  Ireland,  1909.  Lauds,  1909.  New  Poems, 
1911.  Twenty-five  Years:  Reminiscences,  1913.  The  Wild  Harp, 
1913  (edited).  Irish  Poems,  1913.  The  Flower  of  Peace,  1914. 
Flower  of  Youth,  1915. 

CHARLES  WEEKES 

Reflections  and  Refractions,  1893.    About  Women,  1907. 

W.  B.  YEATS 

Mosada,  1886.  Poems  and  Ballads  of  Young  Ireland,  1888  (in 
collaboration).  Fairy  and  Folk  Tales  of  the  Irish  Peasantry,  1888 
(edited).  The  Wanderings  of  Oisin,  1889.  Stories  from  Carleton, 
1889  (edited).  Representative  Irish  Tales,  2  vols.,  1890  (edited). 
John  Sherman  and  Dhoya,  1891  (pseudonym  Ganconagh).  Irish 
Fairy  Tales,  1892  (edited).  The  Countess  Kathleen,  1892.  The 
Book  of  the  Rhymers'  Club,  1892  (in  collaboration).  The  Works 
of  William  Blake,  1893  (edited).  The  Poems  of  William  Blake, 
1893.  The  Land  of  Heart's  Desire,  1894.  The  Second  Book  of 
the  Rhymers'  Club,  1894  (in  collaboration).  Poems,  1895.  A 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  411 

Book  of  Irish  Verse,  1895  (edited).  The  Secret  Rose,  1897.  The 
Tables  of  the  Law,  1897.  Literary  Ideals  in  Ireland,  1899  (in 
collaboration).  The  Winds  Among  the  Reeds,  1899.  The 
Shadowy  Waters,  1900.  Ideals  in  Ireland,  1901  (in  collaboration). 
Cathleen  ni  Hoolihan,  1902.  Where  There  is  Nothing,  1903. 
Ideas  of  Good  and  Evil,  1903.  In  the  Seven  Woods,  1903.  The 
Hour  Glass,  Cathleen  ni  Hoolihan,  The  Pot  of  Broth,  1904.  The 
King's  Threshold  and  on  Baile's  Strand,  1904.  Stories  of  Red 
Hanrahan,  1904.  Poems  (1899-1905),  1906.  Poems  of  Spenser, 
1906  (edited).  Deirdre,  1907.  Discoveries,  1907.  Collected 
Works,  8  vols.,  1908.  The  Golden  Helmet,  1908.  Poetry  and 
Ireland,  1908  (in  collaboration).  Poems:  Second  Series,  1909. 
The  Green  Helmet  and  other  Poems,  1910.  Plays  for  an  Irish 
Theatre,  1911.  J.  M.  Synge  and  the  Ireland  of  his  Time,  1911. 
Poems,  1912  (new  edition,  revised).  The  Cutting  of  an  Agate, 
1912.  Stories  of  Red  Hanrahan,  The  Secret  Rose  and  Rosa 
Alchemica,  1913.^  A  Selection  from  the  Love  Poetry  of  W.  B. 
Yeats,  1913.  Poems  Written  in  Discouragement,  1913.  Selection 
from  the  Poetry  of  W.  B.  Yeats,  1913  (Tauchnitz  edition).  Re- 
sponsibilities, 1914.  Reveries  over  Childhood  and  Youth,  1916. 

ELLA  YOUNG 

New  Poems,  1904  (in  collaboration).    Poems,  1906.    The  Com- 
ing of  Lugh,  1909.    Celtic  Wonder  Tales,  1910. 

WORKS  OF  REFERENCE 

The  following  list  includes  works  announced  for  publication: 
Andrews  (Charlton)  The    Drama    To-day.    Philadelphia, 


Archer  (William)  Poets    of    the    Younger    Generation. 

London,  1902. 

Bennett  (E.  A.)  Fame  and  Fiction.    London,  1902. 

Bickley  (Francis)  J.  M.  Synge  and  the  Irish  Dramatic 

Movement.      London  and  Boston, 

1912. 

Bithell  (Jethro)  W,  B.  Yeats.    Paris,  1913. 

Borsa  (Mario)  II    Teatro    Inglese    Contemporaneo. 

Milan,  1906;  London  and  New  York, 

1908. 


412    IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 


Bourgeois  (Maurice) 

Boyd  (Ernest  A.) 
Brown  (Stephen  J.) 


Chandler  (F.  W.) 
Clark  (Barrett  H.) 

Elton  (Oliver) 
Engel  (E.) 

Figgis  (Darrell) 

Graves  (Alfred  P.) 
Gregory  (Lady  Augusta) 
Gwynne  (Stephen) 

Hamilton  (Clayton) 
Herts  (B.  Russell) 
Hone  (J.  M.) 

Howe  (P.  P.) 
Huneker  (James) 

Jackson  (Holbrook) 


J.  M.  Synge  and  the  Irish  Theatre. 

London  and  New  York,  1913. 
Contemporary  Irish  Drama.    Boston. 

A  Guide  to  Books  on  Ireland.    Dublin, 

1912. 
Ireland  in  Fiction.    Dublin,  1916. 

Aspects  of  Modern  Drama.  New 
York,  1914. 

British  and  American  Drama  of  To- 
day.   New  York,  1915. 
Modern  Studies.    London,  1907. 

Geschichte  der  Englischen  Literatur. 
Leipsig,  1907. 

Studies    and   Appreciations.    London 

and  New  York,  1912. 
A.  E.  (George  W.  Russell).    Dublin 

and  New  York,  1916. 

Irish  Literary  and  Musical  Studies. 
London,  1913. 

Our  Irish  Theatre.  New  York,  1913; 
London,  1914. 

To-day  and  To-morrow  in  Ireland. 
Dublin,  1903. 

Studies  in  Stagecraft.  New  York,  1915. 
Depreciations.    New  York,  1915. 

W.  B.  Yeats.  Dublin,  1915;  New 
York,  1916. 

The  Repertory  Theatre.  London,  1912. 

J.  M.  Synge:  A  Critical  Study.  Lon- 
don and  New  York,  1912. 

Overtones.  New  York  and  London, 
1904. 

The  Pathos  of  Distance.  New  York 
and  London,  1913. 

All  Manner  of  Folk.  London  and  New 
York,  1912. 

The  Eighteen  Nineties.  London  and 
New  York,  1913. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


413 


Kellner  (Leon) 
Kennedy  (J.  M.) 
Krans  (Horatio  S.) 

Le  Gallienne  (Richard) 

Lewisohn  (Ludwig) 
MacDonagh  (Thomas) 
Mair  (G.  H.) 

Malye  (Jean) 
Masefield  (John) 
Mason  (Eugene) 

Maury  (Lucien) 
Mitchell  (S.  L.) 
Monahan  (Michael) 
Montague  (C.  E.) 

Moore  (George) 
More  (Paul  E.) 
Nevinson  (H.  W.) 
O'Donoghue  (D.  J.) 

Oliver  (D.  E.) 
Olivero  (F.) 


Die  Englische  Literatur  im  Zeitalter  der 
Koenigin  Viktoria.  Leipsig,  1909. 

English  Literature:  1880-1905.  Lon- 
don and  Boston,  1912. 

W.  B.  Yeats  and  the  Irish  Literary  Re- 
vival. New  York,  1904;  London, 
1905. 

Retrospective  Reviews.  2  vols.  Lon- 
don and  New  York,  1896. 

The  Modern  Drama.  New  York,  1915. 
Literature  in  Ireland.    Dublin,  1916. 

Modern  English  Literature.  London 
and  New  York,  1914. 

La  Litterature  Irlandaise  Contempor- 
aine.  Paris,  1913. 

John  M.  Synge.  London  and  New 
York,  1915. 

A  Book  of  Preferences  in  Literature. 

London  and  New  York,  1915. 
Figures  Litteraires.    Paris,  1911. 
George  Moore.    Dublin,  1916. 
Nova  Hibernia. ,  New  York,  1914. 

Dramatic  Values.  London  and  New 
York,  1911. 

Hail  and  Farewell.  3  vols.  London 
and  New  York,  1911-1914. 

Shelburne  Essays.  Vol.  I.  New  York, 
1904. 

Books  and  Personalities.  London  and 
New  York,  1905. 

The  Poets  of  Ireland:  A  Biographical 
and  Bibliographical  Dictionary. 
Dublin,  1912. 

The  English  Stage:  Origins  and  Mod- 
ern Development.  London,  1912. 

Studi  sul  Romanticismo  Inglese.  Bari, 
1914. 


4H   IRELAND'S  LITERARY  RENAISSANCE 


Paul-Dubois  (L.) 
Peck  (H.  T.) 
Reid  (Forrest) 
Ryan  (W.  P.) 

Walbrook  (H.  M.) 
Walkley  (A.  B.) 

Weygandt  (C.) 
Yeats  (W.  B.) 


L'Irlande      Contemporaine.       Paris, 

1907;  Dublin,  1911. 
The  Personal  Equation.    New  York, 

1898. 

W.  B.  Yeats:  A  Critical  Study.    Lon- 
don and  New  York,  1915. 
The  Irish  Literary  Revival.    London, 

1894. 

Nights  at  the  Play.    London,  1911. 
The  Drama  and  Life.    London,  1907; 

New  York,  1911. 
Irish  Plays  and  Playwrights.    Boston 

and  London,  1913. 
The  Cutting  of  an  Agate.    New  York, 

1912. 


Bewley  (Charles) 

Bickley  (Francis) 
Birmingham  (George) 

Bourgeois  (Maurice) 
Boyd  (Ernest  A.) 


Cazamian  (Madeleine) 
Clark  (James  M.) 
Connell  (Norreys) 


PERIODICALS 

The  Irish  National  Theatre.  Dublin 
Review,  January,  1913. 

Deirdre.    Irish  Review,  July,  1912. 

The  Literary  Movement  in  Ireland. 
Fortnightly  Review,  December,  1907. 

Synge  and  Loti.  Westminster  Review, 
May,  1913. 

The  Abbey  Theatre.  Irish  Review, 
February,  1913. 

Le  Theatre  irlandais.  Revue  de  Paris, 
September  i,  1913. 

John  Eglinton.  North  American  Re- 
view, November,  1913. 

A.  E. — Mystic  and  Economist.  North 
American  Review,  August,  1915. 

Le  Theatre  de  J.  M.  Synge.  Revue  du 
Mois,  October,  1911. 

The  Irish  Literary  Movement.  Eng- 
lische  Studien,  July,  1915. 

John  Millington  Synge.  English  Re- 
view, June,  1909. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


Colum  (Padraic) 
Duncan  (E.  M.) 
Dunsany  (Lord) 
Gunnell  (Doris) 
Gunning  (G.  Hamilton) 

Gwynne  (Stephen) 

Hodgson  (Geraldine) 
MacGrath  (John) 
Maguire  (Mary  C.) 


Mencken  (H.  L.) 
Mennloch  (Walter) 
Montgomery  (K.  L.) 

Reid  (Forrest) 
Tennyson  (Charles) 


The  Irish  Literary  Movement.  Forum, 
January,  1915. 

The  Writings  of  W.  B.  Yeats.  Fort- 
nightly Review,  February,  1909. 

Romance  and  the  Modern  Stage.  Na- 
tional Review,  July,  1911. 

Le  Nouveau  Theatre  irlandais.  La 
Revue,  January  i,  1912. 

The  Decline  of  the  Abbey  Theatre 
Drama.  Irish  Review,  February, 
1912. 

The  Irish  Theatre.  .Fortnightly  Re- 
view, December,  1901. 

The  Uncommercial  Theatre.  Fort- 
nightly Review,  September,  1902. 

Some  Irish  Poetry.  Contemporary  Re- 
view, September,  1910. 

W.  B.  Yeats  and  Ireland.  West- 
minster Review,  July,  1911. 

John  Synge.  Irish  Review,  March, 
1911. 

New  Irish  Poetry.  Irish  Review,  June, 
1912. 

Synge  and  Others.  Smart  Set,  Octo- 
ber, 1912. 

Dramatic  Values.  Irish  Review,  Sep- 
tember, 1911. 

Some  Writers  of  the  Celtic  Renais- 
sance. Fortnightly  Review,  Septem- 
ber, 1911. 

The  Early  Work  of  W.  B.  Yeats.  Irish 
Review,  January,  1912. 

Irish  Plays  and  Playwrights.  Quar- 
terly Review,  July,  1911. 

The  Rise  of  the  Irish  Theatre.  Con- 
temporary Review,  August,  1911. 


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